My Head's Above the Rain and Roses
by MewWinx96
Summary: Steve Rogers is unfrozen after roughly sixty years in a cryostasis-like state and forms a connection with the first person he meets. Tony Stark is dealing with the fallout from almost dying while at the same time realizing that he might still be dying. Then, there's the madman and the impossibly unnoticeable girl… (Don't like? Please don't read.)
1. 151 Months

**I'm just saying it now, I haven't seen _Infinity War_ yet. I'm going to see it Friday, so please don't put any spoilers in your review. Thank you. :)**

* * *

 **Disclaimer (and this is the only one you're getting): I do not own _the Avengers_ , _Captain America_ , _Iron Man_ , or any other recognizable characters and/or properties contained within. All rights go to Marvel Comics, Marvel Studios, and any other interested third party (I don't think I could name them all). This work (thus far) contains lines from the films _Iron Man_ (2008), and _Captain America: The First Avenger_ (2011). All credit for those lines go to Mark Fergus, Hawk Otsby, Art Markum and Matt Holloway, and Christopher Markum and Stephen McFreely respectively. This work also contains lines from _New Avengers_ #14 by Brian Michael Bendis, and plot points taken from _Captain America: Man Out of Time_ by Mark Waid. All credit for those lines go to each of the authors respectively.**

 **The title of this fic comes from the Green Day song "Still Breathing". All credit goes to Billy Joe Armstrong, Green Day, Richard Parkhouse, Adam Slack, Luke Spiller, George Tizzard, and Joshua Wilkinson.**

 **Cover image edited by MewWinx96 in Adobe Photoshop CC. All likenesses belong to each of the credited actors/actresses respectively.**

 **This fic, while rated T, does contain some less-than-appealing language at times, have a few intense scenes, and (perhaps most controversially) depicts relationships that do not comply with cannon and some people might have an ideological, moral, or otherwise bigoted opinion about. If you do not like the Steve/Tony pairing or are turned off by the other disclaimers, please do not read this fic. Death threats will be taken seriously.**

 **UPDATE 2/16/20: I do not consent to my works being hosted on any unofficial app, particularly ones with ad revenue and subscription services. You should only be able to read this on FFN and AO3. Nowhere else. If you see my stories being hosted on a third-party application, report it to iTunes or the Google Play Store immediately.**

* * *

 **Friday, January 8th, 1999**

His voice had never sounded so cold, but that was unsurprising. Having what was most precious taken away often did that to people.

"Give me my children back now." His demands fell on deaf ears as the social worker unflinchingly stood her ground.

"Mr. Nezchevic-"

"Knežević." Irritation played out clearly on both their faces.

"Knežević," she amended. "I'm sorry but this is clearly not a suitable home for two children to be living in."

"How is this not a suitable home?" Knežević gestured to the rather spacious ranch-style house behind him. "Everything's clean, they have their own rooms, they're always fed and clothed, I make sure Audrey gets to school on time and does her homework…"

"According to your neighbors, you've been running a meth lab out of your basement." Knežević was stunned at both the accusation and the utter lack of emotion on the woman's face as she made it.

"Meth lab?" He gawked. "That's not a meth lab! That is my research! My life's work! You can't just dismiss it as-"

"Regardless of what it is or is not, it still presents a hazard to the well being of your daughters." Knežević scoffed at that.

"Audrey and Stephanie aren't allowed down there," he defended. "The door is always locked, and even if they did manage to get around that, all the hazardous materials are stored up high in a locked cabinet. It's perfectly safe."

"Really?" The woman sounded incredulous. It was the first emotion he heard come out of her voice. "Is that why the fire department has been called to put out your 'research' three times in a two-week span?"

"The girls weren't home at the time!" Desperation was starting to sink in. "Besides, the explosions were contained to the basement. I made sure of it." He then rolled up his sleeves to reveal several severe-looking burns on his hands and arms. The social worker just kept the same cold expression on her face.

"That, sir," she said. "That is just more proof to me that this is an unfit environment for these children." It took all the strength Knežević had not to smack that vaguely smug look off her face. However, she kept talking. "I also think that's more evidence for the officer behind you to give to the district attorney." Knežević looked confused for a second before he felt a pair of strong hands grab his arms and slip the cold metal of the handcuffs around his wrists.

"You have the right to remain silent…" Knežević tugged at the cuffs that ensnared his wrists as the officer led him to the back of a police cruiser. The entire time he begged for the officer, the social worker, anyone to understand. However, it was futile. The last thing he saw before the cruiser pulled away was the frightened faces of his daughters as the social worker led them into her car.

* * *

 **Friday, July 30th, 2010**

All things considered, twelve and a half years in prison for possession of explosive materials and child endangerment was not a bad deal. Knežević was lucky the jury took pity on him. Not only had he just lost his wife months before, but he was also laid off from his job around the same time. Money was tight and with a lack of job opportunities in sight, Knežević used the last of his funds to create his own make-shift chemistry set in hopes of discovering a new chemical compound, finding a use for it, and selling it on the international market, thereby leaving his family financially secure for life.

His idea was a good one, and it might have worked, too, if he only had a knowledge of chemistry beyond what he could vaguely remember learning in high school. As a result, his arms were badly burnt, he was locked away in a federal penitentiary, and he missed the most important years of his young daughters' lives. That was the worst part about all of this. His daughters – who were only five and one years old at the time of his arrest – had to grow up without either one of their parents was just plain unfair. He hadn't done anything wrong. He was just trying to provide a life for his girls, but instead, they were snatched away from him.

The first thing he did once he was released from prison was call his wife's sister, who was granted custody of his daughters after he was arrested. He leaned back against the glass of the phone booth as he listened to the seemingly endless ringing of the line as his call connected and hoped that she hadn't changed her number in the past few years.

"Hello?" The woman's voice on the other end of the line sounded familiar, but Knežević had to be sure.

"Hello," he said. "Is this Lorraine Wilburn?"

"Speaking." Knežević let out an internal sigh of relief at the confirmation. "Who is this?"

"Lorraine, this is Vasyl," he said. "I know it's been awhile since I last called but I just got out of prison and I was hoping that I could come over to see the girls.

Lorraine was silent for a long moment before finally coming out with a small, shocked "what?"

"I'm out of prison," he tried explaining again. "Legally out of prison. I didn't escape or anything crazy like that. I served my full sentence and got out fair and square."

"Shit," he heard Lorraine mutter on the other end of the line. "I thought that wasn't until next week."

"Right…" he said. "So would it be alright if I came over?"

"Um," she hesitated. "Now's not the best time…"

"Okay then," he said. "No problem. I understand. Would tomorrow be better or sometime next week? I'm sorry, I'm just anxious to see the girls again."

"No, I mean, I don't think you should come over at all." Everything seemed to freeze around Knežević.

"What are you saying?" His voice was as cold as it was the day he confronted that social worker in the yard.

"I'm saying that I don't think it would be best for the girls to see you right now." His grip on the phone tightened.

"Why not?" He had to know. He had to know why this woman was daring to keep his children away from him.

"It's just that…" Lorraine started. "Well, they're both already so well-adjusted. Audrey's starting her senior year soon, she's thinking about college, and Stephanie has her own friends and problems as well, but they're happy. Things are good. I don't want you to come in here and mess that up."

"How would I mess things up?" The question was meant to be rhetorical, but Lorraine just felt the need to answer it.

"Let me ask you, do you have a job?" Knežević felt a nervous twinge in the pit of his stomach.

"No," he said. "Like I said, I just got out…"

"Do you have a stable place of living?"

"No."

"Do you have anything going for you? Anything at all?" He brightened up at that question.

"Yes," he almost cheered. "I have this new formula I've been working on…"

"Oh for goodness sake, Vasyl," Lorraine practically groaned. "That's exactly what got you put into prison in the first place!"

"No, but this time it's different." He was essentially pleading at this point. "I've actually been looking into this stuff. I know what I'm doing now and I promise I won't put the girls in any danger."

"Isn't that what you said when Joyce died?" Knežević had nothing to say to that. "Exactly. I'm not going to let you put those girls in danger again. I'm sorry, but you can't see them." The floor seemed to drop out from under him just then.

"Can I…" His voice shook as the realization of defeat sunk in. "Can I at least talk to them?"

"No," Lorraine said. "I don't think that would be a good idea either." Knežević was left physically shaking from that blow.

"Alright then," he said. He heard Lorraine say something resembling "alright," before he slammed the phone against the receiver.

Slumping to the floor, Knežević sat there for a good long while, just sobbing over the loss of his girls. Lorraine wasn't going to let him see them, and that was that. He'd try calling again, but he was certain that next time, Lorraine would just call the cops. He didn't have any money for a lawyer. He didn't even have money for dinner or an apartment. How was he going to fight a custody battle when he didn't even have a single dime to his name?

That's when his mind drifted to the neatly folded pieces of paper in his pocket. While he had no access to any hazardous chemicals from behind bars, he did have access to several books on the subject and he read every single one he could get his hands on as many times as he could. He took notes and studied them almost religiously. He now knew exactly how certain chemicals reacted with each other and how; which ones ended in good results and which ones ended in a horrific explosion. Through his research, he believed to have discovered a new type of chemical compound not yet being utilized for any known purpose. It was all right there in those notes. He just needed proof that this compound was viable in practice, not just theory.

Getting up off the ground, Knežević know knew what he needed to do. He needed to somehow get access to the necessary chemical elements to create this new compound, produce it, and make millions selling his creation. This time, he was certain that it would all work out in his favor.

* * *

 **Thursday, August 5th, 2010**

Getting access to the chemicals he needed was going to be a lot harder than Knežević initially thought. For one thing, some of the chemicals that he needed access to were rather rare and pricey. For another, none of the labs he submitted applications to had contacted him. (Which was a rather smart move on their part given that he had no permanent address and no degrees or credentials to speak of in the field of chemistry whatsoever.) So, in the meantime, he was stuck in a dead-end job working behind the bar at one of the less than reputable establishments in town. It might not have been the best job he could have gotten, but the manager didn't really seem to ask questions. If Knežević could get the job done didn't come in one day and go completely postal, shooting up the place, then the manager couldn't have cared less.

Although he had only been working there for less than a week, it was rather easy for Knežević to fall into a routine. That routine being standing there from 4 PM to 2 AM every day and glaring at the television set as it changed from the news to a sports game to more news to the late night talk shows and back to finish off the night with yet another dose of news. Occasionally he'd have to hand a customer or two a beer, but other than that, things were usually quiet. At one point he questioned whether this bar was a front for something but decided that it probably wasn't a good idea to think about that too much. They hadn't asked questions, so neither should he.

He was about halfway through another boring, dismal night when a woman walked in. She looked no older than twenty and had her hair cut in a short, brown bob. Knežević quickly concluded that she had already had quite a bit to drink, considering she was deliriously giggling and very uncoordinated. He waited a few minutes for her to manage to get up onto her barstool before going over to take her order.

"What'll it be?"

"Um…" she giggled. Even though she was beyond drunk, the distinct tones of either an English or Australian accent marked her voice. "I think I'll have a vodka martini with a twist."

"Sorry, can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Read the menu." Knežević gestured to the blackboard behind him that had the drink options listed (beer, light beer, brown tap water) and – in bright neon pink no less – the capitalized statement of NO MIXED DRINKS! The girl scoffed at that.

"No mixed drinks," she half-laughed in disbelief. "What kind of bar doesn't serve mixed drinks?"

"The kind that hired a bartender who has no idea how to make them," he deadpanned.

"Alright then," she said. "What can I order?"

"Beer." She laughed again. It was starting to get on his nerves. "That's all that you have?"

"It's all that we have here that I think you want," he said. "If you don't like it, the exit's that way."

"Alright then," she said. "I'll have a beer."

"Beer it is then." Knežvić got her a beer from the fridge, then went back to scrubbing the same spot on the rough wood of the bar while he listened to whatever drivel the station decided to put on before the news.

The next half hour went by uneventfully. No one came in, no one left. The dullness of it all threatened to put Knežvić to sleep. In fact, he was certain that the girl had fallen asleep at the bar and was about to go shake her awake and throw her out when he heard a sudden bark of laughter come from her.

"Oh my God," she laughed. "Look at that! I'm on the tele!"

Knežvić was confused by that until he looked up at the TV and saw that it had switched to the news. The reporter – who was identified as Jessa Abello by the news banner underneath her – stood in front of a Jared's Galleria of Jewelry that was surrounded by the flashing lights of police cars. He had to do a double take as his eyes flashed over to the laughing girl, then back to the TV.

"…Police are reporting that almost twenty-four thousand dollars' worth of gold and diamond jewelry, along with some additional four-thousand dollars in cash was stolen from this store just hours ago." The screen then switched over to the view of an empty vault. "Nothing was actually stolen from the show-room floor, but the contents of this vault were raided. The store's manager has stated that only employees knew where the vault was located. Police are considering the option that the suspect they're looking for might be a former employee…"

Knežević tuned his attention back to the girl sitting at the end of the bar, who at this point had ceased her hysterical laughter and went back to nursing her beer.

"You," he said as he approached her. "You did that?"

"Yep," she said, popping the "p". "Wasn't even that hard."

"How?" A wicked smirk appeared on the girl's face.

"A magician never reveals her secrets." The smirk remained on her face as she drank down the last of her beer.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" The smirk didn't leave the girl's face as she reached into the pocket of her jean shorts and pulled out what looked to be a golden, diamond-encrusted necklace. "Holy shit!" He took the necklace from her and examined it to ensure it was real. As far as he could tell, it was.

"I know," she said. "Beautiful right? That thing will surely fetch a pretty penny on the black market." She then gently took the necklace back from him and stuffed it back into the pocket of her shorts. "Hey, would you mind grabbing me another one of these? I'm kind of in a celebrating mood."

"No problem." Kneževic then went back to the fridge to retrieve another beer.

During the time it took him to walk to the fridge and back, an idea sparked in his mind, one that he hoped would turn things around for him. A wide grin appeared on his face as he placed the beer down in front of her. The girl smiled, thanked him, then took a nice long pull from the bottle.

"What's your name?" he asked once the girl had swallowed her drink.

"Oswin." She wiped the remaining beer off her lips with the back of her hand.

"Oswin," he repeated. "That's a strange name."

"It's because I always win." She smirked at that.

"Okay, **Oswin** ," he said. "I take it you do stuff like that…" He gestured over to the TV, which had now changed to a weather report. "…often."

"Report the weather?" Knežević's palm met his face. It was obvious she was incredibly intoxicated – what person in their right mind would admit to grand larceny to a total stranger unless they had a few – but at this point, it was more annoying than entertaining. "Oh! You mean the robbery thing!"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm talking about the robbery thing."

"Yeah," she said. "I've only been hitting up jewelry stores and banks for a few months, but I've been stealing ever since I was a little girl. I guess you can say I'm a bit of a kleptomaniac."

"Do you think you'd be able to rob a place like a lab or something?" He had to know. This girl could be the key to getting to see his girls again and providing them the life they deserved.

"Of course." She waved it off like it was nothing. "Easy as pie! Why? Are you offering me a job or something?"

"That's exactly what I'm offering you," he said. "My name is Vasyl Knežević and I would like to employ your services, Miss Oswin." He held out his hand for her to shake.

"Uh, just Oswin," she said, taking his hand.

"Oswin, then," he amended.

"So, how much are you going to pay me and what do you want me to steal?" A wicked grin spread across his face.

"We can discuss those details later," he said. "But, first thing's first, do you happen to have your own house or apartment or something?"

* * *

 **Friday, August 6th, 2010**

Oswin awoke to the bright glare of the sun shining on her face. She could have sworn she closed the blinds the night before. Sitting up, her head began to thump, and she let out an audible groan.

 _How much did I have to drink last night?_ She thought as she staggered out of bed and into the living room. When she reached the doorway, she froze, having noticed the strange Asian man asleep on her couch. She panicked for a second before realizing she still had all the clothes on that she had been wearing the night before and her guest was fully clothed as well. At least she could scratch "awkward breakfast with a one-night stand" off her list of potential worries.

She had a kettle brewing on the stove and was patiently waiting for her bagel to pop out of the toaster when her guest finally stirred. She watched as the older man sat up on the couch and stretched out.

"Well, it's nice to see that you've decided to rejoin the land of the living," she remarked. "I thought you were going to stay asleep forever." Her bagel then popped up and she turned her attention to transferring the breakfast treat from the toaster to her plate without burning herself.

"Good morning to you, too." He obviously wasn't very enthusiastic upon waking. "Do you have a map and a phone book I can borrow."

"Uh, I don't know about the map," Oswin said. "But if you need to give the taxi service directions, we're on South Grevillea Avenue in Lennox."

"No, I don't need a taxi service," he said. "I need to find the closest lab or chemical production facility to here."

"Chemical production?" It took a second, but it all came back to her. "Oh, this is about that job you want me to do. I'm sorry. Had a bit too much to drink last night."

"Understandable," he said. "So where's the phone book?"

"Under the coffee table, but I think this…" Oswin went across the room to fetch her laptop off the dining table. "Would be a lot faster." The man stared at the small machine as she held it out to him.

"I've been in prison for twelve years." He said. "I don't know how to use that." While Oswin rolled her eyes, the kettle started whistling in the kitchen.

"I'll do it in a minute," she said. "Just let me have a cuppa before I start."

Once she had her tea and finished her bagel, Oswin sat down next to the man and opened her laptop. Quickly finding her way to Google, she turned the screen to the man next to her, so he could see what she was doing.

"Alright this," she gestured towards the screen. "…Is Google. All you have to do is type whatever you want to know into this box," she pointed at the search bar in the middle of the screen. "Then hit the 'search' button," she pointed over to the little grey button below the search bar. "And the computer will tell you whatever it is you want to know. For example," she gestured over to the TV which she had flipped on while eating her breakfast. "if I type 'Good Morning America' into this box and hit search," she did exactly that causing the page to change from the simple, blank home screen to a list of results from across the web. "It will give me all sorts of information about the show; what time it's on, who's in it, etc."

"Can you search for people using that?" That wouldn't have been the first question Oswin would have asked, but she just decided to brush it off.

"Of course," Oswin said. "If you search for someone online, you can find their social media profiles, bank records, public documents…"

"Can you type Audrey Knežević into that thing?" Oswin raised an eyebrow to that.

"Depends," she said. "Who is that?"

"My daughter," Knežvić clarified. "I haven't seen her in so long. Do you think I could find a picture of her if I searched?"

"Oh you most certainly could," Oswin said. "But I think it's best if we just stayed focused on the task at hand."

"Right," Knežević said. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize," she said. "So, what is it that you wanted to find? Some sort of chemical plant?"

"Chemical plant, industrial complex, basically any sort of lab that would have access to rare and hazardous chemicals."

"Okay." Oswin began typing her search into the engine. "Chemical labs near Lennox, CA." The page instantly changed and displayed results on screen. She quickly skimmed the list before reading it aloud. "There's West Manufacturing in Athens, Neilson-Edelman Corporation in Compton, Stark Industries in Hawthorne…"

"Hawthorne," Knežević repeated. "Is that close to here?"

"Uh, yeah…" Oswin tried to think. "I think it's just one exit down on the motorway. Why?"

"It's perfect," Knežević said, taking the computer from her. "What happens if I click this bold, blue…"

"I'll take you to the Stark Industries homepage," she said. "Why what is it that you're looking for."

"Do you think they have what chemicals they have in stock listed?"

"No," Oswin shook her head. "That'd be like a bank posting exactly how much money they have in the vault on the front door."

"Damn," Knežević stroked the dark stubble that lined the area around his mouth. "Guess we'll just have to go in and hope for the best."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about robbing Stark Industries." Oswin's eyes went wide. "Not for money or anything like that. I just need to 'borrow' some of the chemicals they have inside for a little bit."

"Have you gone completely mental?" she questioned.

"No, I haven't," Knežević asserted. "Everyone else has. That's why I need to do this. If I can create this formula…" He pulled a series of neatly folded papers out of his pants pocket. "…Then hopefully I can sell it and have the funds to get back on my feet."

"What is it?" Oswin tried to take the papers from him, but Knežević quickly snatched them back and slid them back into his pants pocket.

"Don't know yet," Knežević said. "In theory, it's a permeant freezing solution, but I haven't yet gotten the opportunity to see the chemicals react in practice. If you get these chemicals for me, I'll be able to find a practical use for it and market it on an international scale."

"Okay," Oswin says. "Say I get these chemicals for you. What then? How are you going to pay me?"

"That's the best part," Knežević said. "You'll be my business partner. We'll go fifty-fifty on the profits, but fifty-fifty is still potentially hundreds of millions of dollars."

"Hundreds of millions of dollars…" Oswin drifted off for a second, imagining everything that she'd be able to do with that kind of money. However, she couldn't let herself get carried away. Forcing herself to come back to reality, she said: "and if this ends up failing?"

"You're free to raid my cardboard box on the side of the Pacific Coast Highway." Oswin couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Alright," she said. "But are you sure robbing Stark Industries is a good idea? By doing that, we'd essentially be asking for Iron Man to come and kick our asses. You do know about Iron Man, right?"

"Of course, I know about Iron Man," Knežević said. "We might not have had computers in prison, but we certainly had access to a TV. I wouldn't worry about him, though." Knežević gestured over to the TV and Oswin turned her head to see Tony Stark being interviewed by some overly bubbly blonde. The banner beneath them both read Stark Breaking Ground on New Project. "Stark's all the way in New York City. If we strike as fast as possible and as soon as possible, we can probably get in and out before Stark even knows what hit him."

"Wow," Oswin said. "You sound pretty overconfident making that declaration."

"I'm not overconfident," Knežević said. "I just have nothing else to lose."

* * *

 **Yeah, I know you have to go through all of this bull with the OCs, but Tony's gonna be in the next chapter! (Which is coming out Friday!) So yeah, you have that to look forward to! I have to say, though, I am definitely nervous about uploading this fic. I know not everybody likes this pairing (for whatever reasons they have) and I'm a little worried that I'm going to get some hate sent my way (but hopefully nothing worse than that) and I'm also posting in a much larger fandom than I have before, so I'm definitely a little anxious.**

 **I have an extended author's note going up on my blog (I have the address typed out on my profile, so please check there.) so be sure to check it out there. Also, follow me on Twitter, Tumblr, and DeviantART. I haven't been on the first two in a few days because, once again, I'm trying to avoid _Infinity War_ spoilers, but I'll be back once I've seen the movie on Friday! This fic is also being uploaded to AO3, so be sure to follow me there as well. I use the same username on all of those sites. Also if you liked my writing so far and you like _the Boondock Saints_** **, feel free to check out my other fic _Better to Be Fake and Happy._**

 **Remember kids, it's an excellent idea to steal from a multi-million dollar corporation that's run by a superhero. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?**

* * *

 **Originally uploaded to FFN on 5/2/18.**


	2. Groundbreaking Discoveries

_**Infinity War**_ **! _Infinity War_! _Infinity War_! _Infinity War_! _Infinity War_! _Infinity War_! _Infinity War_! _Infinity War_! _Infinity War_! _Infinity War_! _Infinity War_!**

* * *

 **Friday, August 6th, 2010**

One would likely assume that if they destroyed an entire exposition center, putting at risk the lives of tens of thousands – if not hundreds of thousands – of people in said exposition center and the area surrounding it, they would promptly be booted out of that city and be banned from ever returning. That is, in the unlikely scenario that they were somehow able to get away with not getting charged with some sort of federal/criminal offence and double unlikely if the city happened to be New York post-9/11. They also most certainly not be allowed to purchase land in that city and be granted the proper permits to start constructing the world's first self-sustaining skyscraper, but people tend to overlook these things when there's a certain number of zeroes behind the five in your total net worth.

In all seriousness, the disaster that was the 2010 Stark Expo was definitely the fault of Justin Hammer and Ivan Vanko – two men brought together by the desire to respectively outdo and get revenge on Tony Stark – but the media, a certain percentage of the general public, the company that insured Flushing Meadows-Corona Park, and Tony's own conscience all seemed to disagree with that fact. It was to the point where Tony was shocked that the city officially gave them the go-ahead to start construction. He was certain that some city official would pull some long-forgotten law or ordinance out of nowhere to stall construction, but that never seemed to happen. That came as a relief, considering how much time, energy, and money had already been sunk into the project, but at the same time it set Tony a bit on edge. Call him paranoid, but he was almost certain that someone had something up their sleeve to set the project back. He could just feel it.

Shoving his own personal worries and hang ups aside, Tony tried to immerse himself in the excitement of the day. Keyword: tried. He had very little success in doing so. Part of it was the migraine that he had been fighting for several days, part of it was the fact that he had started off the day on the wrong foot. First thing in the morning he had to hit the talk show circuit with several pre-taped appearances and a live interview on _Good Morning America_. The pre-taped appearances went off without a hitch, but the live interview had been a disaster. Not only had the words "merchant of death" come up a few times, but also several inquiries into his personal life that he'd rather not answer. It was obvious that the woman interviewing him – God, he couldn't remember her name – decided to use this as an opportunity to advance her career and went so far off script that someone could have easily mistaken it for a taping of _Who's Line is It Anyway?_ The only good thing about it was that despite bringing up every one of his very public failings from the time he took over Stark Industries to the aforementioned incident at the Expo just two months prior, the woman somehow neglected to bring up his '95 sex tape. Out of all the mistakes he made in his past, he never wanted to relive that one again.

Tony certainly did have a few words to say to the showrunner once the interview was over. Normally, that would be a job for his assistant, but Pepper had decided to retain her position as CEO of Stark Industries, "Natalie Rushman" discreetly made her exit in the days following the disaster that was Stark Expo, and Tony had yet to appoint someone new to the position. Regardless, the showrunner was extremely apologetic for the way the interview had gone, but the damage had been done and now Tony was going to be left to figure out the fall out of that. He just hoped that none of the press continued the wannabe big shot's crusade at the groundbreaking ceremony that was to take place that afternoon. If he could get through that part of the day, he wouldn't be "home free", but he would have one of the more stressful parts of the day done and over with and he couldn't wait for it.

Glancing out the window at the passing cityscape, Tony tried to mentally prepare himself for the onslaught that was to come. Once again, that was difficult given an agonizing migraine he was battling. He wasn't entirely sure what had brought it on, just that at some point his head started pounding and he hadn't been able to shake it. He had tried everything; aspirin, coffee, sleep, alcohol, ice, massaging pressure points, letting the blood rush to his head, more alcohol, Advil, reverse psychology, the placebo effect, Bloody Marys, etc. None of it had worked.

Tony's first thought upon closer examination of his own symptoms was _a concussion_ , but he couldn't remember the last time he took a serious blow to the head (then again, that would be another symptom of a concussion). Just in case, though, he had Happy, Pepper, and Rhodey check his eyes at various points throughout the week. They all said his eyes looked fine (and were terribly confused and suspicious as to why they had to keep checking his eyes.) and he wasn't displaying any of the other symptoms of a concussion, so Tony felt safe taking that off the list of potential conditions. However, removing that from the list rendered the number of possible conditions he could have back down to zero, leaving Tony with no other option but to go back to the drawing board.

Although a doctor would probably advise against it, Tony was once again trying to alleviate his pain with alcohol. Yes, he knew that all alcohol did was numb the pain a bit and cause problems such as dehydration and deoxygenation of the brain which would end up making his headache much worse later, but now he didn't care. It was making him feel something resembling better and it had the added benefit of making him forget about the earlier interview, so in his mind, it was the best option available to him for getting through this press conference with his fragile sanity intact. Besides, for right now it was just one drink and it wasn't like he'd be driving himself home later.

Just as Tony was polishing off the last bit of scotch in his glass, Happy had pulled up to the curb alongside the staff tent that had been set up on the edge of the property. Returning the glass to the minibar, Tony looked out the window and gauged the situation he was walking into. The press had already gathered and had turned their cameras onto the newly arrived limo, along with a few hundred onlookers. Shifting his gaze, Tony made eye contact with Happy through the rearview mirror.

"You ready, Boss?" Tony slid his sunglasses on.

"It's show time." Happy grinned and got out of the car. Tony slid into the seat closest to the door and allowed himself one last deep breath before he went out and faced the world.

 _Come on, Tony,_ he told himself. _It's nothing you haven't done before. Same old song and dance; just smile and wave like nothing's wrong._

Happy then pulled the door open from the outside and Tony stepped out into a world that solely consisted of bright camera flashes and forty different versions of "Mr. Stark!" People tried to reach around the metal barrier to try to get a handful of the billionaire playboy philanthropist and reporters shouted out a myriad of questions that all seemed to blur together with the cheers of the crowd. Tony took it all in stride; smiling, waving, and making remarks that he could barely hear. Before he knew it, he had safely made his way to the backstage area and he could finally breathe again.

The first person Tony took notice of as he scanned the room was Pepper. She was beautiful in her light blue, sleeveless yet professional-looking dress and her hair curled to perfection. The thing that really brought the look together, though, was the none-too-pleased look on her face. Tony once again raised his guard as the red-head made her way over to him.

"Where have you been?" Tony was slightly relieved that her tone carried more concern than anger.

"Oh, you know," he said. "I was out enjoying the sights. I hear Times Square is lovely this time of year."

"I'm serious, Tony," she said. "We have to be out there in less than five minutes! What took you so long?"

"I take that to mean that you didn't catch my interview on _Good Morning America_ ," Tony said while a crew member hitched up a mini-microphone to the lapel of his suit.

"No," Pepper said. "I've been getting ready and setting things up. Why? What happened?"

At the same time, the crew member finished hitching up Tony's microphone.

"All set, sir," the young man said.

"Great," Tony said. "It's not on now, right?"

"No sir," the crew member said. "It'll go live once you step onstage."

"Good," Tony said. "That'll be all for now." The crew member went off to complete his next task. Tony turned his attention back to Pepper.

"Tony," she started to say, but she was cut off.

"It was a witch hunt," Tony outright stated. "The girl interviewing me had an agenda. She went off script and pulled out all the stops."

"How bad was it?" Concern and dread were building up in Pepper's eyes.

"Worst case scenario bad." Pepper's eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open. Tony stepped around her and went to get into position to go onstage. Pepper followed close behind.

"Oh, my God." Tony wasn't looking at Pepper, but he could hear the horror clear in her voice. "She didn't bring up-"

"No, she didn't." Tony had to cut her off before she said the words aloud. "If she did, I would be trying to pry ABC from Walt Disney's cold, dead hands just so I could have the honor of firing her myself. She did bring up every other horrible thing that I've done, though. The whole thing was a mess, but I've been assured that she went completely off-script and she will definitely never be on-air again."

"Two minutes!" A crew member shouted over the organized chaos that was happening around them. Tony stepped into position and a makeup artist appeared from nowhere to touch up the places that had smudged and worn off since that morning.

"Wait, what do you mean you were 'assured'?" Pepper narrowed her eyes at him. "Didn't you read the questions before you went on-air?"

"Of course, I did." Pepper gave him a pointed look. "Alright, I skimmed it on the car ride there, but I think I would have noticed if the words 'baby-killer' or 'war-profiteer' appeared anywhere in there." Pepper let out an exasperated sigh.

"You need to get a new personal assistant," she said. "It's getting ridiculous." Tony quickly thanked the makeup artist as she finished with her work before jumping right back into his conversation with Pepper.

"Already on it," he said. "I've had HR put the word out and they've sent me a few profiles."

"And?" Pepper asked.

"I don't like any of them." Tony straightened out his clothes as he prepared to go out and face the public again. Pepper looked a little annoyed as she stepped forward to stand beside Tony and did her own final checks as well. "What can I say? I have high standards. You should know about that, right?"

"Can we not do this now?" Pepper didn't look at Tony. "We're going to be out there in less than one minute and the last thing I need right now is to be upset with you."

"Alright." Tony dropped it and the two of them stood there for a prolonged period of silence until a crew member began counting down the number of seconds until the press conference began.

"I'm sorry about the interview," Pepper finally said.

"Nothing we can do about it now." Tony kept his gaze fixed ahead of him.

"Still, that wasn't a good thing to have to go through." She brushed the back of her hand against the back of his in a comforting gesture.

"You don't know the half of it." They then got their cue to go onstage and the mask of his public persona slid over Tony's face.

 _Just smile like nothing's wrong, Tony. Smile like nothing's wrong._

* * *

"This is Charlie-Tango-Alfa-Niner to the Hub. Charlie-Tango-Alfa-Niner to the Hub. Do you read me? Over."

"This is the Hub. We are reading you loud and clear Alfa-Niner. What is your status? Over."

"The broken arrow has been located and the 0-8-4 has been retrieved. This bird is en-route to NYC. ETA: Two hours. Requesting immediate medical assistance upon arrival. Over."

"Roger that. Do we have an agent down? Over."

"That is a negative. Requesting to be patched through to Director Fury directly. Over."

"Can I get some clarification on that? Over."

"Negative. Agent Coulson wishes to speak with Director Fury directly. Further details cannot be discussed until he does so. Over."

"I'm going to need more information before I contact Director Fury. Over."

"Tell Director Fury that Protocol Charlie-Alfa-Lima-Alfa-Seven-Too-Too has been activated. I repeat Protocol Charlie-Alfa-Lima-Alfa-Seven-Too-Too has been activated. Over."

"…"

"Charlie-Tango-Alfa-Niner to the Hub. Do you still read me? Over."

"Reading you loud and clear Alfa-Niner. Patching you through to Director Fury now. Over."

"Roger that. Over."

* * *

Tony put all his effort into remaining perfectly still as he laid down on the bed. The slightest movement would send waves of electricity coursing through his brain. It was a pain, but at least he wasn't feeling any pain lying like this.

The first opportunity he got, Tony bailed out of the commencement party. It was, by far, one of the lesser stressful public appearances he had to put in that day (aided by the fact that most of the guests seemed to agree that the _Good Morning America_ reporter was out of line and didn't dwell on the topics she brought up for too long) but he still needed to get out of there as soon as possible. The stress of the entire day was getting to be too much and was only serving to agitate his migraine further. Once he made all the rounds and said hello to everyone, Tony made his speech thanking the guests for coming and then slipped away to his hotel room.

So, he spent all his energy lying perfectly still and waiting for sleep to come. He had turned out all the lights and pulled the curtains shut so it was absolutely pitch black in the room aside from the glow of his Arc Reactor. He didn't have anything to drink outside of that one glass of scotch in the limo earlier. In fact, he had barely anything to eat following the press conference. His stomach was volatile and he had moved the waste bin next to his bed just in case he threw up. Overall, Tony Stark was not a happy camper.

He was even less of a happy camper when he heard a knock at the door. Forcing himself to get up and gritting his teeth against the pain Tony got up and looked through the peephole. Seeing Pepper standing on the other side of the door, Tony quickly pulled his pants and his undershirt back on before opening the door.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Great," he tried to lie, but Pepper gave him that pointed look again. "My head still hurts, but it's not as bad as it was before."

 _It's much, much worse._

"Do you mind if I come in?"

"No, not at all." Tony flipped the lights on (which felt like electric daggers going through his eyes) and stepped aside to let Pepper in.

Tony had to admit, it was weird to be in a room alone with Pepper since… Well, since the day after the incident at the Expo. When Vanko had triggered the self-destruct sequence, Pepper had been standing right next to one of the Hammer-bots. However, Tony had swooped in just in time and saved her. Then they shouted at each other, then they kissed…

Then the next morning, Pepper took it all back. Tony couldn't believe it, but she took it all back. She said she had time to think about it and she realized she couldn't be with someone who treated her the way he had over the past few months. Fair, because he had been slowly dying of Palladium poisoning and didn't tell anyone, instead opting to live it up like it was the last days of Caligula and be damned with the consequences. However, the conversation only got more heated from there and came to an abrupt head when Pepper had finally reached her breaking point.

 _"I'd rather be with someone who was honest with me, rather than pushes me away in the face of death, but I guess I just hold people to a higher standard."_

That was what Tony's earlier quip had been about. It was a low blow and he knew it. When Pepper had said it, she was instantly horrified and regretted it. Tony had seen it on her face, yet he still somehow had no problem using them against her when the first opportunity presented itself. Perhaps that was why they had barely spoken outside of work-related matters since then.

Pepper had stayed on as CEO of Stark Industries. Despite their personal problems, she was able to put her feelings aside and work amicably with him for the good of the company. The fact that they had finally broken ground on Stark Tower was a testament to that. However, they had yet to have a personal, one-on-one conversation since then and that was putting Tony on edge.

It hurt. Every time he looked at Pepper; every time he glanced in her general direction all Tony could think about was what she had said to him and it hurt. Did he deserve it? Yes, and he wouldn't argue about it. The thing that was supposed to be keeping him alive was killing him and there was no possible solution in sight. Rather than be honest about the whole situation, he had acted like a jerk and pushed everyone he cared about away. That wasn't the smart move to make, but he knew he couldn't live with everyone making a big fuss about this and spending his final days watching his loved ones suffer through grief. Dying – the process of – changes everything. Living changes nothing. Tony knew that; had experienced it firsthand and he couldn't put the people he cared about through that. To him, it was better to die hated and forgotten rather than loved and missed. The former was much less painful in his opinion.

However, in the fall out of his umpteenth near-death experience, he realized how much his actions had hurt the people around him, especially Pepper. So, in the weeks following he tried to be at least more honest with her if anything to amend and restore their friendship to where it was before. He no longer had intentions of pursuing a romantic relationship with her. He couldn't, not after what she said to him.

Even though Tony had resolved to be more honest with Pepper, he was having a tremendous amount of difficulty following through with that resolution. From the moment he could speak in complete sentences, Tony was expected to be a certain way; be a good boy and say the right things to the right people at the right times. Lying was second nature to him, particularly telling lies about himself. He could never admit he was in any pain or show any sign of weakness. Once you have that instinct embedded in you, it was all but impossible to remove.

So, Tony shut the door behind him, all too aware of both the physical pain of his migraine and the emotional pain of being in a room alone with Pepper. He watched as she sat down in one of the chairs in the living area and moved to sit across from her.

"I just wanted to check on you," she said. "It didn't look like you were feeling all that well at dinner and when you walked out of the party I knew something was wrong."

"I appreciate your concern," he said. "But really, I'm fine. Just a little headache. No big deal."

"Still," she said. "It's not normal for you to be like that, especially in public. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Well, consider yourself reassured because I feel absolutely fine." Pepper gave him a disbelieving look. He knew he had to change the subject before she got a chance to argue otherwise. "Listen, what I said earlier – the 'higher standards' thing – I'm sorry. That was a low blow and I shouldn't have gone that far."

"It's alright," she said.

"No, it's not-" Tony tried to argue, but Pepper cut him off.

"You were in pain and under a lot of stress and you snapped," she said. "I get it. I've been there."

"Yes, but you deserve better." Tony felt an ache in his chest as he said that. "You said so yourself, you don't deserve to be treated like that and it was wrong of me to use your own words against you just for the sake of being petty. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted." A bittersweet smile appeared on her face for half a second, but it quickly straightened itself out. "I also feel I should apologize for saying that to you in the first place."

"You shouldn't have to apologize for that," Tony cut in.

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

"Tony, please…"

"Pepper…"

"What I said hurt you." Tony fell silent. "I knew it would before I said it and I still said it anyway. I was upset, and I hurt you on purpose and I'm sorry for that. It was bad enough that I already did a complete one-eighty on you, but to imply I was better than you in any way…"

"You are better than me, Pep." Pepper opened her mouth to argue, but Tony didn't give her the chance. "Don't try to argue with me, because you are. You're one of the best people I know. I wouldn't have entrusted Stark Industries to you if I didn't think you were capable of being better than me in every way. You deserve better than me, which is why I completely understand the choice you made."

It was difficult for him to say all of that – so much so that he forced himself to spit it out in a rather rushed manner, but it was what needed to be said. Pepper was absolutely stunned into silence.

"Wow," she said when she finally found her voice. "I don't know what to say to that."

"Well, I hope you enjoyed it because I don't think I can put in a repeat performance tonight." Tony pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and rubbed his temple with the other. Despite the pain, he knew that one more thing still needed to be said. "I know you don't want to be in a relationship with me. I've accepted that. I'd still like to be friends, though, if you want. I've missed you, Pepper."

"I'd like that," she said with a smile. "I've missed you, too."

They fell into a silence again, but this one was much easier than the ones that proceeded it. At least that was until a particularly painful flash of lighting traveled across Tony's brain and he was unable to suppress a groan.

"Are you okay?" Pepper asked.

"Yup," Tony managed to say. "Just feels like a full-blown rave is going on in my skull. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "Do you need anything?"

"Just need some rest is all," he said. "It's the only thing that I've found that sort of, kind of helps." Pepper nodded in understanding.

"Alright," she said. "I'll live you to rest, then." She started moving towards the door and Tony headed back to bed.

"Can you do me a favor and turn the lights off on your way out?" Tony said as he crawled under the covers.

"Sure thing," she said. Though, when she got to the door, she hesitated. "Tony, just so you know… I'm not better than you. We're equals. Just… I hope you understand that, alright?" Tony pulled the blankets close to him as he carefully considered his response.

"I do," he said. "Goodnight, Pepper."

"Goodnight, Tony." The room was once again plunged into pitch blackness as Pepper turned off the lights and left.

 _You're still better than me._

* * *

It was bordering on midnight when the Quinjet finally touched down in New York. A S.H.I.E.L.D. medical team immediately rushed onboard once the cargo bay door opened. Once they had disappeared inside the aircraft, the first agent to emerge was Agent Phil Coulson and waiting for him was Director Fury's right hand, Commander Maria Hill.

"What did you find onboard the downed aircraft?" Hill didn't mince words and got right to the point.

"Quite a bit of unknown tech," Coulson said. "It'll keep the kids down at the Sandbox busy for a while. A lot of it's Tesseract-related, so it could be a help in getting Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S. off the ground."

"And you're certain it was the Red Skull's plane?"

"Absolutely."

"How can you be sure?"

"They said Captain Rogers went down with the ship, didn't they?" Hill noticed the medical team preparing to wheel a gurney down the ramp.

"You found his body?"

"Well, I think I found a bit more than that." Coulson and Hill then stepped out of the way so the medical team could get by. It was then that Hill was struck by how quick and frantic their movements were. However, if she hadn't caught a glimpse of the body as it was wheeled by, she probably wouldn't have believed it herself.

"Oh my God, he's alive!"

* * *

 **I'm hoping that if I chant _Infinity War_ enough times, my mom will take me to the theater faster. That's how this works, right? Anyways, if you do leave a review, please hold off on posting _Infinity War_ spoilers for a few more hours. When I start posting on Tumblr again, that's when you'll know it's safe. **

**Also, happy tenth anniversary, MCU! You already know how I plan on celebrating!**

 **Remember kids, even if the author doesn't have the will to live, it's not worth it to track her down and kill her.**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 5/4/18.**


	3. The Devils You Know

**So... My heart is broken.**

* * *

 **Saturday, August 7th, 2010**

Obviously enough a living human being had never been thawed before. First, there was the fact that humans are made mostly of water and when water freezes, it expands, leading the rupturing of all the major bodily tissue cells, resulting in death. Secondly, even if you somehow managed to solve that little problem in the freezing process, there was the little issue of it being scientifically unethical to freeze a person and bring them back to life. Even if the person was okay with the possibility of dying or something going wrong in the thawing process causing them to be permanently injured for life it'd still be unethical and possibly illegal.

Hence, why it had never been tried before, or at least that was known of. Conspiracy theory sites often claimed that the USSR and the KGB were looking into such technologies during the Cold War – and it certainly was plausible given their history or conducting experiments with little regard to the subject's physical or mental health (ex. Pavlov's orphan experiments) – but it was a little hard to take those claims seriously when the same websites also claimed that the Earth was flat and there was a global conspiracy to make everyone believe it is round. Also, organizations such as the CIA and S.H.I.E.L.D. found little evidence to support those claims. If they had found evidence of them, though, it would've made their jobs much easier as they tried to revive Captain Rogers from his ice-induced coma.

When Coulson's team first came across the frozen man, they were certain he was dead. It wasn't until they started thawing the ice around him to retrieve the body that they realized that the man was, in fact, alive. He kept trying to breathe despite the thick layer of ice separating him from the fresh air and once they had him thawed enough they felt for a pulse; confirming that he was still alive. They quickly freed his body from the remaining ice, got him on a gurney, loaded him up on the Quinjet and headed to New York – the closest S.H.I.E.L.D. base that had the equipment to handle that kind of medical emergency.

Despite having no clue how to go about re-warming Rogers' body, the S.H.I.E.L.D. team did do everything they could think of to keep him alive. On the way there they followed the standard first-aid protocol for treating someone with hypothermia (getting the person out of the cold, removing wet clothing, covering the person with blankets or towels, etc.), and once they had arrived the staff at the medical center treated him as though he had a very severe hypothermic case. It was the bare minimum that could be done for him at least. So far it seemed to be helping. Well, really it wasn't affecting anything, but it wasn't making Rogers' condition worse either, so technically it was neither a hinderance nor a help. Still, it was better than nothing.

Although S.H.I.E.L.D. was formed from the remains of the SSR, and thus had extensive files on Project: Rebirth and Dr. Abraham Erskine's research, they were having trouble figuring out how Rogers was able to survive for so long in the ice and how they should go about reviving him. Obviously, no one had foreseen that Rogers was going to be frozen in ice with no direct access to food, water, or sunlight for over sixty-five years, but somehow, he managed to survive it. They tried to look for any kind of file that mentioned cold-resistance in relation to the serum injected into Rogers' body but were coming up empty. They could theorize that Rogers' enhanced healing capacity contributed to it, but other than that there was nothing for them to go on. They had no way of knowing if Captain Rogers would awaken from his coma and if he did, whether he'd be able to function as a normal human being, never mind taking on the role of Captain America again.

As a last-ditch effort, S.H.I.E.L.D. was trying to locate anyone who had any involvement in Project: Rebirth or the SSR back in the day who was still alive, of sound enough mind, and possibly had information that could help them. It was going about as well as anyone would expect.

"Only four people had full access to all the files and research related to Project: Rebirth," Commander Hill explained. "Agent Margret Carter, Dr. Abraham Erskine, Col. Chester Phillips and Howard Stark. Erskine was killed by a Hydra assassin the same day Captain Rogers underwent the serum treatment. Col. Phillips died of natural causes in his home in 1980. Stark was killed alongside his wife in a car accident on Long Island in 1991. The only survivor is Agent Carter, but she is in hospice care for dementia in London. I doubt she'll be of any help."

"Any chance their families have access to information, old files?" Agent Coulson asked.

"After S.H.I.E.L.D. was established all the old SSR files were added to the official S.H.I.E.L.D. archive and that's what the med and science teams are going through now," Hill explained. "Currently, all of the information on Project: Rebirth in the world is inside this building.

"Are you sure about that?" Director Fury asked.

"What do you mean by that?" Hill had to ask.

"The SSR files, are they complete?"

"As far as we can tell, yes."

"'As far as we can tell…'" Coulson repeated. Hill narrowed her eyes at the two men sitting at the table with her.

"You're not suggesting that someone stole files from S.H.I.E.L.D., are you?"

"No," Fury said. "But I wouldn't put it past Howard Stark to withhold certain files from S.H.I.E.L.D. archive if he believed they were of use to him. He did try to keep a vial of Rogers' blood for himself, after all."

"What happened to it?" Hill asked.

"No one knows," Fury said. "Stark said he believed it was taken by Fenhoff while Stark was under the influence of his mind-control, but neither the SSR nor S.H.I.E.L.D. was able to verify that. For all, we know it could still be locked away in some hidden vault in Stark Industries. Either way, if he was willing to go that far to ensure he maintained access to Rogers' blood, I'm sure he would have done the same with Rogers' medical files."

"So what?" Hill said. "Stark's been dead for years. If he had hidden files somewhere, they've probably been lost or destroyed by now."

"There's still a chance that his son still has access to the files," Coulson suggested. "It's worth a shot." Fury nodded in agreement.

"Call Tony Stark," Fury instructed. "See if he still has access to his father's files. Do not tell him anything that's going on."

"Understood, sir." Coulson then left to make the call.

* * *

The opening notes of "Shoot to Thrill" roused Tony from his light dose. He hadn't been able to sleep since Pepper left. Instead, he just laid there with his eyes closed waiting for his head to stop pounding. The pain did ease up a bit but had yet to fully cease. However, the sound of his ringtone playing brought a headache back full-force. Groaning, Tony felt around for the phone on the nightstand.

"Please don't be a telemarketer," Tony muttered to himself. "Please don't be a telemarketer. Please don't be a telemarketer."

Tony tapped the screen and the see-through device lit up, displaying an unknown number on the screen. Tony's eyes narrowed. The number was way too long to be a telemarketer or anyone in the Continental United States for that matter. Intrigued and skeptical at the same time, Tony hit the accept call button and brought the device to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Tony Stark?" A familiar voice said on the other end of the line. "This is Agent Coulson from S.H.I.E.L.D." Tony pulled the phone away from his face for a second to let out a curse.

"Agent," he said, trying to come off as amicable when really, he was tired, annoyed, and in pain. "It's good to hear from you again. I was really in need of a three AM wake-up call."

"This isn't a social call, Stark."

"Yeah, I figured." Tony rubbed at his forehead. "So, what is it that S.H.I.E.L.D. needs me to consult on at this ungodly hour?"

"We don't need you to consult on anything," Coulson said. "We just need to know if you have access to any of your father's old research files."

"My father's files?" His voice was too tired to properly convey the confusion and suspicion he was feeling. "Depends on which ones and why."

"We think your father might have kept files that contained key information about a problem we are currently facing. This information could prove to be an invaluable asset in finding a solution to that problem."

"How invaluable?"

"It's the difference between life and death."

"For who?"

"Everyone." Tony sighed. He couldn't argue with that.

"I had all of my father's files digitized ages ago," he explained. "If you give me some search parameters, I can have JARVIS search my private database for it."

"That would be great," Coulson replied.

"So, what am I looking for here?"

"Any and all files connected to or associated with SSR Project: Rebirth." Tony fell deathly silent for a moment.

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

"No," Tony said. "I'm not going to give you those files. I know what that is and I'm telling you no."

"Mr. Stark-"

"No, I don't want to hear it." Tony took a calming breath before continuing. "I know that Project: Rebirth was the operation that turned Steve Rogers into Captain America. I'm not going to give those files over to S.H.I.E.L.D. just so they can create their own army of Super Soldiers."

"Mr. Stark, I think you've misunderstood our intent," Coulson tried to explain.

"Oh yeah?" Tony said. "Then what does S.H.I.E.L.D. want with those files?"

"That's not for me to disclose." Tony tried to say something but didn't get a chance as Coulson continued. "I can assure you, though that we aren't trying to replicate the Super Soldier Serum. We know for a fact that information isn't in those files anyway." Tony paused for a second to think things over.

"Who can disclose that information?"

"Director Fury."

"Can I speak to him?"

"Not now," Coulson explained. "He's busy handling a situation."

"Tell you what, Agent," Tony said. "I'll only give the files over if I can talk to Fury myself. I'm not just going to hand over the information my father purposefully safe-guarded without knowing what it's going to be used for.

"Fair enough," Coulson relented. "I'll tell that to Director Fury."

"Alright then," Tony said, and the call swiftly ended. Tony put the phone back on the nightstand and promptly went back to staring at the backs of his eyelids, waiting for sleep to come.

* * *

Tony wasn't sure if he got any sleep or not when he got up that morning. He knew it was dark out when he was on the phone with Coulson, but when he finally opened his eyes again it was daylight. He supposed that probably meant he got at least something resembling a peaceful, dreamless sleep, but at the same time his body felt as though he hadn't slept at all, which was great. On the bright side, at least he didn't have to use the wastebasket at any point.

His head still hurt, though, so that was a negative. When he was in the shower, the feeling of the water droplets hitting his head was pure agony. He even thought he was seeing double at a few different points. He tried taking Excedrin, but like everything else he tried it barely even touched the pain.

After he got out of the shower, Tony got another call from Coulson, giving him an address where he and Fury could safely meet. Being mindful of the fact that he and Pepper had a ten AM flight back to Los Angeles, Tony had Happy drive him to the location.

The building looked like a nondescript office building on the outside, but Tony knew that it was really a high-tech S.H.I.E.L.D. building on the inside. As soon as he entered the building, he spotted Coulson and Fury waiting for him.

 _Good,_ Tony thought. _I can get this done as fast as possible._

"Director Fury," Tony greeted as he walked up to the two men. "Agent Coulson."

"Stark," Fury said. "Do you have the files?"

"Of course, I do." Fury opened his mouth to say something, but Tony cut him off. "However, I'm not just going to hand this over to S.H.I.E.L.D. Not until I know what the hell this is about."

"Stark, you have to understand, S.H.I.E.L.D. has no nefarious intentions in taking this information from you." The expression on Tony's face showed he wasn't buying it. "We know nothing in there can be used to replicate the Super Soldier Serum. That's not our goal here."

"Then what is your goal?" Tony asked. "Because I don't understand why S.H.I.E.L.D. would suddenly need information from the project that created Captain America. What are you playing at?" At that point, Fury relented.

"Alright," he said. "Looks like I'm going to have to show you."

"Show me what?" Tony questioned. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because if I tell you, you won't believe me," Fury said. "Hell, I'm not even sure showing you will get you to believe me.

Tony raised an eyebrow at that but was nonetheless intrigued. With only a few seconds of consideration, Tony followed Fury and Coulson past a security checkpoint and through an elaborate series of hallways that seemed more like a maze than a functional corridor system. Then again, that was probably the point.

They eventually came to a stop in front of a pair of double doors labeled Observation Room 5. Sliding a keycard through a scanner and completing a fingerprint and retinal scan, Fury opened the doors revealing a swath of S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors, researchers, and agents crowded into one room. Everyone was so involved in what they were doing that they didn't notice that the Director had re-entered the room. The woman standing at the center of it all did notice, though, and quickly approached the three men.

"Director Fury," she greeted. "Did you get the files from Stark?"

"Not yet," Fury then turned towards Tony and gestured over to the woman standing in front of them. "Tony Stark, Commander Maria Hill. Commander Hill, Tony Stark."

"Pleasure to meet you." It was clear that she was only saying that to be polite as she extended her hand out for him to shake.

"It's lovely to meet you as well," Tony said in a way that sounded less than sincere. It was clear that Hill had caught on to the slight as she shook his hand.

"What's his status?" Fury asked Hill.

"Vital signs are stable, but he still shows no signs of waking up," Hill explained. "We're still going through the old SSR files to see if we can find information on his physiology, but so far, no luck."

"So, no change?" Coulson questioned.

"No change," Hill confirmed.

"I'm sorry what are we talking about here?" Tony looked from director to agent to commander, hoping one of them would fill him in on what was going on. Coulson gestured over to a large plate-glass window that took up most of the left-hand side of the wall with a nod of his head.

"Why don't you look and see for yourself?" Tony stared at the agent oddly for a few seconds before proceeding to move towards the glass.

The room on the other side was clearly an interrogation room, but the table and chairs had been removed and space converted into a make-shift ICU. Multiple machines monitored the vitals of a man lying on a hospital bed in the back-center of the room. Several heat lamps surrounded the bed. The man looked like he was in a calm and peaceful sleep even though he had various tubes and wires connected to him. He appeared to be in his early to mid-twenties and had a rather fit physique with strong arms and a broad chest. Tony might have focused on that detail for a little too long before the eye's flicked up to the man's face. Once he properly focused on it he realized he had seen the face before. He had never met the man himself (given that the guy was supposed to be, you know, dead) but he had seen pictures before and heard his father go on about the man enough times. However, the logical part of his brain rejected the notion.

 _It can't be him! It's impossible! The guy's been dead for over sixty years! Unless S.H.I.E.L.D. found a way to miraculously revive the dead, there is no way this is real._

"Is this a trick?" Tony found himself questioning allowed. "Am I getting _Punk'd_ or whatever it is they call it now? Because not cool guys, not cool!"

"This isn't a trick, Stark," Coulson said. "That really is Steve Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America."

"No," Tony denied. "That can't be him. It's not possible. He died in a plane crash in 1945. He's supposed to be dead!"

"I didn't believe it at first either, and I was the one that **found** him." Tony raised his eyebrows at that but said nothing. Coulson continued. "We got a call about a downed aircraft with unidentified tech onboard. It was found abandoned in the Arctic Circle. We identified it as possibly being the aircraft Johann Schmidt – a.k.a. the Red Skull – attempted to use in a bombing attack against the United States that was thwarted by Rogers. Our suspicions were only confirmed when we found Rogers' body. At first, we thought he was dead, but then, well…" Commander Hill picked up from there.

"We believe that the Super Soldier Serum in his system kept him alive and the ice preserved him in a cryostasis-like state," she explained. "However, we know nothing about his physiology, let alone how much the Serum affected it. That's what's caused us to hit a snag on how to revive him. We've been treating him for hypothermia and so far, he's remained stable, but we don't know what drugs to administer or avoid. If we accidentally gave him something that would interact poorly with the Serum or his advanced systems couldn't process, we'd kill him."

"That's why you need the files," Tony stated. Fury was the next one to speak up.

"We believe your father might have withheld certain pieces of information from S.H.I.E.L.D. archive for one reason or another, such as physical examinations of Captain Rogers after he underwent treatment with the Serum," he explained. "We know that the Serum's formula was lost with the death of Dr. Abraham Erskine. We just want to try and save this man's life." Tony turned back to studying the man behind the glass.

"How do I know that's really him?" he questioned. "How do I know that this isn't some shady spy trick?"

"Tell you what, Stark," Fury said. "If you give us the files willingly, you can talk to him when he wakes up. Ask him any question you want, figure out if he's the real Steve Rogers. Do we have a deal?"

Tony stood there for a long time considering his options. Finally, he slowly walked over to the circular table in the center of the room and placed his phone down on the surface.

"JARVIS, log in to my private database and pull up all files related to 'SSR Project: Rebirth.'"

"Right away, Sir," the AI said as a loading screen popped out of the phone's holographic display. It was quickly replaced by an alphabetized list of all the files and documents found matching the set parameters. "Search completed, forty-eight results found. Anything else I can do for you, Sir?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "Send Pepper a text message. Tell her I'm going to miss the flight and to leave without me. Also, tell her that nothing's wrong and I'll see her Monday."

* * *

 **So, I was not expecting _Infinity War_ to go the way it did. I mean, it was good, but damn the feels... My sister tried to warn me before I went to the theater! I should have listened to her!**

 **Anyways, if you liked this please leave a review. Be nice, though. I kind of need it after the hell week I've had. I think today's the only free day I have to myself and I intend to enjoy it.**

 **Remember kids, always aim for the head.**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 5/10/18.**


	4. 487 In-Progress

**Happy Deadpool Day! Please don't be too pissed that this chapter once again only features original characters.**

* * *

 **Saturday, August 7th, 2010**

Knežević watched as Oswin sat cross-legged in the driver's seat, tapping away at the keyboard of a small laptop computer. When they were making plans for robbing the Stark Industries headquarters, Oswin had insisted that she go in alone. This obviously wasn't an option for Knežević as only he could identify which chemicals were the ones he needed. He didn't trust Oswin to do it. He didn't even think she could tell Acetate apart from Ammonia. However, Oswin had explained to him that there was a way that he could see everything she was doing inside the building without leaving the car. Knežević heard her out, but he was still skeptical.

"You're sure they can't trace this or anything?" he asked. "I saw on TV once that police can trace phone lines. Do you think they'll be able to trace this?"

"Maybe," Oswin admitted. "I'm not sure. Probably, but I'm not all that computer savvy. I only know the basics, so Skype's pretty much our only option."

"So," Knežević said. "Let's go over this plan one more time. You're going to walk in there and gain access to one of their chemical engineering labs and you're going to have me identify the chemicals over the phone?"

"Over Skype," Oswin corrected. "But yes."

"I still don't get how this Skype thing works," Knežević said. "You're going to be on a phone, I'm going to be on a computer… How can a phone call a computer? Also, you said I'd be able to see everything, but I don't see how that's going to work."

"Give me one second…" Oswin picked up her cell phone and tapped the screen a few times. After she did that, the laptop started making a sound and Oswin clicked something on the screen. She turned the device around and put it in Knežević's lap. "All set."

"All set?" Knežević questioned. "How is this all set? The screen is completely black, how do I fix-" He was cut off as a blur of motion came across the screen and moments later he was met with the image of Oswin smiling and waving at him.

"Hello!" Knežević turned to his left and saw Oswin doing exactly that.

"That's amazing!" he exclaimed. "How did you do that?"

"Video calling," she said. "It's the way of the future." Knežević still looked at her puzzled, in need of a better explanation. Oswin laughed. "Like I said, I'm not all that computer savvy, so I don't know it exactly how it works. The best I can explain it is that the phone shoots some signal up to a satellite and the satellite sends the signal back down to the laptop, allowing you to see and hear everything that I'm doing."

"But how does it have video?" Knežević asked. "That's the thing I don't understand."

"Oh, both the phone and the laptop have cameras. See?" She pointed out where the cameras were located on the phone and the laptop and then showed him the phone's screen, which was currently capturing the side of his neck and chest as he turned to look in Oswin's direction. "You can see everything I see, and I can see everything you see. I'll also be wearing this," she held up a small device that had the word "Bluetooth" written on the side of it. "So that way I can hear everything you're saying, and I can still talk to you. Does that sound like it will work?"

"That sounds perfect!" Knežević said in amazement. "So you'll be able to show me everything with this?"

"Yup," Oswin said, popping the "p". "So long as I don't get caught filming, but I don't think that's going to be a problem.

"That reminds me," Knežević said. "You didn't tell me how you were planning to get around the guards and cameras."

"Oh, that's easy." Oswin opened the door and stepped out of the car. "I don't." She slammed the door and started walking away before Knežević could even process what she said. Once he did, he was seething with rage.

 _I can't believe this,_ he thought. _She's going to get herself arrested! How could she be so cocky; so brazen? I should never have trusted her! I'm never going to get my daughters back now!_

"Hello," he heard Oswin's voice say through the laptop's speakers, breaking him out of his internal rage-filled monologue. On screen, he had a nice view of Oswin's white running shoes and the pavement of the city sidewalk. They had decided that it would be best to park a few blocks away and have Oswin walk there alone. If she needed to make a quick getaway, she would let him know. "Testing, testing! One, two, three! Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Knežević said. "Now do you want to explain to me what the hell that was?"

"Wow, you sound cross," Oswin commented.

"Oh, I'm beyond cross!" Steam was practically blowing out of his ears. "What the hell was that? Do you even know what you're doing?"

"Of course, I do," Oswin insisted.

"Really?" Knežević said. "Because you're not acting like it. What do you expect? That you're going to just waltz in there, take whatever you want, and then walk out the front door?"

"Well, yes." Knežević had to resist the urge to slam his head on the dashboard. "Don't worry about it. I've done this before. I won't get caught."

"You won't get caught," he laughed. "Oh, I am going to enjoy watching you get arrested."

"Well, prepare to be disappointed," Oswin said in response.

The next few minutes went by in silence. Knežević watched as Oswin walked through the streets of L.A. going unnoticed by passersby. Eventually, she came up to the concrete and glass building that housed Stark Industries. Knežević held his breath and started shaking a bit. He thought about calling it off but decided against it.

 _If I get arrested, I get arrested. If I don't then I get a shot at seeing the girls again. That makes it worth the risk._

Oswin shoved the cell phone into the pocket of her sweatshirt. The screen went black again, but he could still hear Oswin thanks to the headset she was wearing.

"Sorry about that." She was whispering now. "I'm about to walk in the building and on the off-chance I get caught I don't want to make it worse on myself by having a camera in my hands."

"On the off-chance," he laughed again. "You crack me up."

"Hey, you'll see that I'm right."

"Sure I will." Knežević could have sworn he heard huff "shut up" under her breath. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes like a child. Glancing into the rearview mirror, he noticed a bag of Doritos left abandoned in the backseat. He reached back, retrieved the bag, and checked the date. Satisfied that the cheese-covered chips wouldn't kill him, he sat back and dug into the bag. He was going to need snacks for this show.

Once again, things were quiet for a while. That worried Knežević at first, but he realized that if she were caught by security, he probably would have heard something by now. So, he resigned himself to staring at a black screen and ate his chips. This was turning out to be a boring show.

"Okay," he finally heard Oswin say. "I'm in the building, I'm behind the front desk, and I'm looking at a map. Where should I go?"

"How am I supposed to know? I've never been there before." Oswin let out an aggravated groan. "Just look at the map. Is there anything marked 'chemical lab?' Maybe 'chemical engineering?'"

"I'm not seeing any- Wait, there!" It sounded like she practically jumped with excitement. "Northwest corner of the building, first floor! There's a room marked 'chem. lab 1.'"

"Good," Knežević said. "Start heading down there. Have you spotted any guards yet?"

"Oh yeah," she said like it was nothing. "I've seen at least four so far. Five if you count the one I passed on my way in here."

"Wha?" was all Knežević was able to get out with his jaw dangling freely from his skull.

"Hold on," Oswin said. "It's probably safe to take my phone out now." Once again, there was a blur of motion as she pulled the phone out of her pocket and turned the camera on herself. He was greeted by the image of her smiling face. "Hello again."

"Hi." His tone was as dry as a desert. "What the hell was that?"

"What do you mean?" Knežević took the perplexed look on her face to be purposefully taunting.

"Are you serious?" He felt like hitting something, so he slammed his fist hard against the passenger-side window. He flinched a little bit from the pain. "Ah – You just said you got spotted by five guards! What the hell are you thinking and shit, what are your windows made of?"

"Shatter-proof glass." Knežević didn't appreciate the sarcastic response, especially with his hand beginning to throb. "Secondly, I didn't say the guards spotted me. I spotted them. There's a difference."

"Really?" His disbelief carried through his tone. "What are you, a master of disguise now? Did you camouflage yourself with the nearest potted plant? Turned yourself invisible?"

"Something like that," Oswin nervously admitted. "I'll tell you later. For now, let's just stay focused on the task at hand."

"Alright," Knežević relented. "Do you know where you're going?"

"Yup," Oswin said happily. "Just a left, a right, and another left. I should probably get off-camera now. I'd go a lot faster if I was paying attention to where I was going."

"Good idea," Knežević agreed. He stuck another chip in his mouth as his view changed to the (rather nicely) tiled floor.

He watched for several minutes as his accomplice made her way through Stark Industries. A few times he heard the second set of footsteps approach her and every single time his pulse quickened with fear. However, every single time the person would go by as if they didn't even notice her. No questions were asked; no one even seemed to give her a second glance. It was both nerve-wracking and freaky.

Eventually, Oswin made that last left and ended up in front of a set of steel double-doors labeled "Chem. Lab 1."

"Alright," he heard Oswin say. "I'm here."

"I can see that," Knežević said. "Good."

"Right," Oswin said. "Now, how do I get in?"

"What do you mean?" Knežević squinted and chewed a little slower on his chip. "Can't you pick the lock or something?"

"I don't know how to do that." It was clear she felt guilty admitting that. "I usually just stand around and wait for someone to open the door for me, but obviously that's not going to happen with everyone gone for the weekend."

"Shit…" Knežević slammed his hand against his face.

"I'm sorry," Oswin said. "I guess we should have thought this through a little more and came up with a solid plan before we started taking shots of Patron."

"You think?" Oswin went quiet and Knežević took a few deep breaths to try and calm down.

 _Getting angry is not going to help anything._

"Alright," he said once he calmed down enough. "What kind of lock is it?

"Uh…" He heard Oswin bend over to inspect the lock closer. "Electronic keypad, ten-digits."

"What's the brand name on it?" Knežević asked.

"There isn't a brand name on it," Oswin said. "My guess would be Stark, though, seeing as it is their building."

"Try 0088229955," Knežević suggested.

"Okay?" Oswin sounded hesitant and perplexed but complied anyway. "0088229955." There was a buzz, a click, and a gasp of surprise from Oswin. "That worked! How did you know that would work?" Knežević smirked to himself.

"I worked as a security guard at the Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant back in the 90's," he explained. "My first week I got locked out of the control room and I didn't want to be fired for being so incompetent that I couldn't remember a stupid door code. The locks were Stark keypad locks with ten-digit codes. I entered every combination of numbers I could think of before I stumbled upon the factory override code."

"Factory override code," Oswin questioned. "What's that?"

"It's a code that's programmed into all electronic locks when they're still on the factory floor," Knežević explained. "It's supposed to reset the electronic components into an unlocked, disarmed state. That way if something goes wrong and the lock seizes up while they're still putting it together, they can reset it and fix the problem. Usually, they program the override code out before letting the locks ship out commercially, but sometimes either through oversight or negligence, a lock ships out with the override code still programmed in. However, that's rare. We really lucked out. Seriously, that only had a two-percent chance of working."

"Still, it worked," Oswin said. "You've got to give yourself credit for that, though. Wait… How did you know all of that stuff about the codes if you only guessed that one at random?"

"I got bored a lot in prison," Knežević said. " _A Modern History of Locks and Locksmithing_ ; it's an interesting read if you ever want to look it up."

"They let you read a book about picking locks in prison!" Oswin exclaimed and laughed at the same time.

"It wasn't about lock picking," Knežević assured. "It wouldn't have been allowed in the building if it was. It was mostly just the history and the facts and stuff. It didn't give instructions."

"Okay," Oswin said. "Whatever you say. Now, what should I be looking for in here?"

"Raw aluminum, oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, and sodium," Knežević listed off.

"Where would I find those?" Oswin asked.

"The aluminum could be stored in any locked cabinet," Knežević said. "The sodium, oxygen, carbon, and hydrogen, however… Those are going to be locked up somewhere secure."

"Like, perhaps, a thick steel door with the word 'danger' written on it in capital letters and hazardous material symbols all over it?" She pointed the camera at the door to show Knežević what she was talking about.

"Exactly," he said. "can you get in?"

"It's another ten-digit Stark lock," she observed. "I'll try that code again and see if that works." Knežević watched as she set the phone down again and the screen went black. He heard her enter the code a few times and curse when it didn't work. "I don't think that code works with this door. Sorry."

"Well, they can't all be winners." Internally, panic was beginning to grip him. "Maybe look through the drawers, see if anyone wro-"

 **Slam! Clang! Bang!**

Knežević slammed his head on the roof of the car and clutched at his heart.

"What is that? What is that?" He looked around the car in absolute terror, expecting to see a SWAT team surrounding the car, waiting to arrest him for attempted grand theft. However, he was not greeted by that sight, nor could he find the source of the noise. Eventually, he realized it was coming from the laptop's speakers. "Oswin," he called out to no avail. "Oswin!" That time she seemingly heard him as the banging stopped abruptly.

"Ah," she sighed as if she had been forced to run uphill with a boulder in her hands. Knežević could hear something large and metal being placed on the ground. "I just got the door to open."

"What?" he said, both elated and confused. "How?"

"I smashed a chair against the lock until it came off the wall."

There was a moment of dead silence.

"What?" The cold tone was creeping into his voice again. Oswin took notice.

"Uh, yeah," she said. "Why? Should I not have done that?"

"Hell no, you shouldn't have!" He raked his hand through his hair in frustration. "What if there's a silent alarm wired in the lock? What if you just tripped it? Christ, Oswin, what were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry." It came out muffled like she had brought her hands to her face in the pure horror of what she had done. "I can fix it! I'll put it back on the wall!"

"It's too late for that," Knežević growled. "If there was a silent alarm, security has already been alerted. I'm coming to get you. Grab as much as you can and meet me outside."

"Alright," Oswin said. "I'll be exiting at the service door near the northwest corner of the building. It's the closest exit to where I am. What should I be looking for specifically?"

"Any container marked aluminum – chemical symbol Al; or sodium – chemical symbol Na." Knežević climbed over the center console and slid into the driver's seat. "Also, canisters marked as oxygen – O – carbon – C – and hydrogen – H. Do you need me to identify them?"

"Nope," Oswin said. "They're all clearly marked. I shouldn't have a problem."

 _You better not._

Nothing was said as the two went about their assigned tasks. Oswin could be heard through the laptop's speakers lifting stuff and moving as swiftly as possible to be able to meet Knežević on time. Knežević, meanwhile, was forced to move slowly through the city blocks as not to draw attention to himself. Going eighty in a twenty-five would attract police attention, so he obeyed the posted speed limit.

He came upon the northwest corner of the building and immediately spotted Oswin. It looked like she had acquired a cart and had stacked the canisters and sealed containers onto it.

Knežević pulled up alongside her and got out of the car. With no words spoken, he and Oswin worked quickly to get everything loaded up in under two minutes. They then got in the vehicle, leaving the cart abandoned in the parking lot.

For a while, it was silent in the car. Then Oswin burst out laughing.

"Oh my God," she said as she struggled for breath. "We just robbed Stark Industries! I can't believe it! Hey, once we've dropped this stuff off back at my place, do you want to go out and find a place to get smashed? I really need a drink right now."

It was then that Knežević realized how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel.

"Yeah," he said. "I could go for a drink right now." Oswin let out a whoop of excitement.

* * *

 **Yeah, not entirely happy with this chapter myself, but what can you do? If you liked this please review or comment or whatever you kids do these days. I don't really have much to say right now. Also, I am not a scientist. This chapter has probably made that very clear to you.**

 **Remember kids, stealing from a superhero is a REALLY good idea. I stole a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup from Batman's trick-or-treat bag last year and nothing bad happened to me!**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 5/18/18.**


	5. While You Were Sleeping

**Remember how I said I'm not a chemist? Yeah, well I'm not a physician either.**

* * *

 **Saturday, August 7th, 2010**

S.H.I.E.L.D. immediately began to study the files once Tony gave them access. It was like watching a bunch of little kids opening Christmas presents, only with less of a mess. The agents dug into the files, transferring the data and information to their own computers and studying every single piece of information on Captain Rogers as they could find.

Tony watched it all from his position on a couch in the back of the room. He was tired and starting to feel like he might throw up from the pain of the headache again. He would leave, but he needed to make certain for himself that the information was being used in the way S.H.I.E.L.D. said it would be. Plus, Fury did promise him that he could talk to Rogers if he woke up, so he had more reason to stay and wait for S.H.I.E.L.D. to do whatever they were going to do. So, he just sat back on the couch and not only tried to ignore the pain, but also was forcing himself to remain awake and alert just in case.

Tony wasn't sure why he was doing this. It wasn't like he'd ever met the man before or knew anything about him. Well, that's not true. He knew what others had told him about Steve Rogers, but that wasn't the same as knowing the man himself, especially when you considered the high pedestal that Howard Stark put Captain America on.

In fact, that had made Tony resent Rogers a bit. His entire life he had heard his father go on and on about how great Captain America was and his father had held him to that high standard. Tony, obviously, could never manage to live up to those expectations, and as a result came to hold feelings of resentment towards a man everyone thought long-dead.

However, Howard wasn't the only person in Tony's life who had known Steve Rogers and discussed the man behind Captain America with him. So, it wasn't all resentment Tony felt towards him. His Aunt Peggy had painted an entirely different picture of the man; one that didn't always reflect the gold-standard that Howard had presented. She told him of a man who wasn't perfect; one who stood up for what he believed in and protected those who were defenseless; how he had roped his father and Peggy into helping him sneak across enemy lines to save a number of captured POWs, including his best friend; and – perhaps most importantly of all – he was told how Steve had once thought "fondue" was a sexual act and had to be informed by Howard that it was just bread with melted cheese on it. (That still makes Tony laugh to this day.)

So, to say his feelings were mixed was an understatement. He was having trouble reconciling the two images of a man considered to be dead and buried with the unconscious guy hooked up to machines in the next room. In fact, he still wasn't entirely convinced that S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't trying to pull a fast one on him, so he tried to keep a close eye on what everyone in the room was doing.

He was failing to do that, though. In fact, he was failing to push aside the feelings of pain and tiredness that were plaguing him. The nausea eventually settled down once he had been sitting for a few minutes, but his head was still flaring up with sparks of pain and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and go back to sleep. However, that wasn't an option now, so Tony fought against it all.

It was very easy to lose track of time in this enclosed room. He supposed that's why Coulson called him in at three AM – the man honestly didn't realize that it wasn't morning yet. There weren't any clocks on the walls and Tony noticed that not many of the agents had watches, so it made sense. However, it seemed much easier for Tony to lose track of time, probably because he wasn't feeling so well.

Awhile after Tony gave S.H.I.E.L.D. the Captain America files, JARVIS notified him that Pepper was calling. He told the AI to put her on hold while he found a quiet place to take the call. When he did, he finally caught sight of the time – three-thirty in the afternoon. Meaning that Pepper had probably already landed in LA and that he had probably fallen asleep at some point because it didn't feel like that much time had gone by. Regardless, he didn't hesitate in picking up the phone, but he was preempted by Pepper in answering it.

"'Nothing's wrong?' What is that for an explanation? Why weren't you on the plane? Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Tony said dryly. "How are you?"

"Worried sick," Pepper said. "I didn't get the text you sent me until the plane was already in the air! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you still sick? What's going on?"

"Okay, okay, okay," Tony said over Pepper. "One thing at a time! First, I'm fine. I'm not hurt, I'm not dying, and I'm not kidnapped. I'm at S.H.I.E.L.D. and I'm perfectly safe."

"S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Pepper questioned.

"Yes," Tony said. "They need my help with something I can't talk about. That's all."

"That's all," Pepper said. "Then why didn't you say that in your text?"

"I thought I basically summarized it."

"'I'm going to miss the flight,'" Pepper quoted. "'Leave without me. Nothing's wrong. See you Monday.'"

"Okay, maybe I wasn't that precise." Tony could feel the heat coming off the glare Pepper was sending him all the way from the west coast. "I'm sorry. I should have explained better."

"You should have called," Pepper corrected. "Then I would have known you were okay."

"I'm fine," Tony said. "Perfectly fine."

"Tony…"

"My head still hurts, but it's not as bad now." Through Pepper's silence, he could tell that he was getting that look again. "It's still bad, but I'm fine. I can function."

"Promise me you'll go to the hospital if you feel any worse." Tony tried to argue, but Pepper cut him off. "Don't say it, Tony. I don't care if it causes a media circus, your health and safety are priority number one. We can figure out how to handle the fallout later. You seemed bad last night, and I know that if you're letting that show, you're actually ten times worse than you're letting on."

"I know," Tony said. "I just can't seem to shake it."

"Is this the first unshakable headache that you've had?" Tony had to be honest here.

"No." He had several like this since Afghanistan. Each one had been worse than the last and the only treatment he had found that worked was waiting for it to go away on its own. He thought it was a symptom of the Palladium poisoning, but if that were the case it would have gone away once he replaced the Palladium in the Arc Reactor for the new element (which he had started referring to as "badassium.") "Look, I can come up with ninety-nine reasons why I don't want to see a doctor, but I already know that you're not going to like any of them, so I'm just going to cut to the chase and promise to go to the hospital if I feel any worse."

"Thank you." Pepper sounded honestly relieved. Tony felt a pang of guilt for making her worry. "So, what's the plan here? Do you really think you'll be back by Monday or do you think S.H.I.E.L.D. will keep you longer?"

"Monday is what I'm hoping for," Tony said. "If they don't come through with their promises by then, I'm leaving. I'd say expect me by Monday afternoon at the latest."

"So you'll be back in time for the board meeting on Tuesday." Tony audibly groaned.

"Right," Tony said. "Forgot about that."

"Like you 'forgot' about the last three?" Tony knew better than to try and respond to that. "That reminds me, I'm going to be interviewing candidates for your new PA Monday afternoon. You're welcome to sit-in if you're back by then and interested."

"Why?" Tony asked. "I said I would handle it."

"Because it's been three months and you have yet to hire a new one," Pepper explained. "Plus, I believe it's in my contract that I can pick my successor."

"You already did that," Tony pointed out. "And you picked a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who was sent to assess if I was worthy of joining Fury's secret club."

"She could handle you though, right?" Once again, Tony knew better than to answer that question. "Exactly. Besides, 'Natalie Rushman' didn't technically exist, so I never appointed her as my replacement."

"Alright, you win," Tony relented. "But can you at least make sure they're tall, tan, and blonde?"

"I'll pick whoever's best for the job," Pepper said.

"I'm not saying that," Tony said. "But if they happen to be tall, tan, blond, **and qualified** …"

"I'll keep my eye out," Pepper ignored the cheer of 'yes' that Tony gave and instead changed the subject. "I don't suppose you've watched the news today?"

"No." Tony winced. "How bad is it?"

"The press about the construction of the tower has been good." Tony mentally thanked Pepper for starting off on the lighter side of things. "The fact that the tower is going to be totally self-sufficient is a point of interest – as we thought it would be. Also, ABC released a statement announcing that they have fired the reporter who interviewed you for insubordination and publicly apologized to you."

"I'm not surprised by that, given the conversation I had with the showrunner."

 _Especially since the words "lawsuit" and "slander" got thrown in there._ Tony thought but didn't say.

"Are they still talking about that interview?" Tony had to ask.

"Yes, but for the most part, it's not about you," Pepper explained. "Most of what was brought up was old news – nothing that hadn't already been beaten to death. They lost interest in that fast. They're mostly focused on the interview itself and the tactics the reporter used to get around her superiors." Meaning she got underneath them to get around them. The one thing the media seemed to like more than vilifying him was talking about other people's sex lives. The only thing they liked more than that, was talking about **his** sex life, and if they could vilify him **while** talking about his sex life…Well, it would be like Christmas came early for them and it was also why Tony was glad that the reporter never got a chance to bring up the sex tapes. Tony felt a little bit of relief at that. That was one less thing to worry about for now.

"That's good to hear," he said. "Anything else I need to be aware of?"

"I think that's it for now," Pepper said. "I should probably be letting you go."

"Yeah," Tony said. "I'll talk to you Monday."

"Talk to you Monday," Pepper agreed. "Remember to take care of yourself."

"Remember, tall, tan, and blonde."

"Tony…"

"Alright, alright," Tony said. "Talk to you later."

"Bye."

"Bye." Tony hit the end call button and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Returning to the observation room, Tony took a moment to re-evaluate the situation. Now that he knew that several hours had passed, he took notice of things he hadn't before like that Fury had left. Hill and Coulson were still there, though, and it seemed as if the chaos of the situation had become a little more controlled. If Tony had to guess, it was because they knew exactly what they were doing now.

Tony walked over to the window that overlooked the interrogation room-turned intensive care unit. The man who was supposedly Captain Steve Rogers still laid inert in his hospital bed, but a lot had changed in the man's surroundings since Tony last looked in. The heat lamps had been removed from the room and it looked like they had been replaced by heat packs covering the entirety of the man's body.

Tony focused in on the man's face and tried to compare it with all the images he could recall seeing of Captain Rogers over the years. However, it had been a while since he had seen a photo of Rogers, plus the oxygen mask that was covering half his face was doing a rather good job of obscuring the man's features. Likely, this wasn't Steve Rogers and S.H.I.E.L.D. was pulling a fast one on him to get information on the Super Soldier Serum. Then again, if it was a ruse it was clearly an elaborate one. In fact, S.H.I.E.L.D. would probably have an easier time trying to hack into JARVIS' systems than they would have slapping all of this together (and Tony would be long dead and buried by the time they managed to crack the first layer of security protocols he had set up, never mind the other three-hundred layers that laid beneath.) So, Tony was torn. On the one hand, this was way too much effort to be exhausting to get a tiny bit of information that he didn't even have. On the other hand, Tony couldn't stop that old saying from ringing in his mind.

 _If it's too good to be true, it probably is._ This went beyond "too good to be true"; it was near miraculous and Tony wasn't one to believe in miracles. There was a rational explanation for this, but the only rational explanation was more questionable and full of holes than the idea of a miracle. For once in his life, the workings of the world around him completely baffled Tony and he didn't like that much.

While Tony was busy figuring out whether the wool was being pulled over his eyes that he didn't notice Agent Coulson coming up to stand beside him.

"It turns out we were on the right track by treating Captain Rogers for hypothermia." Tony glanced over at the agent in surprise but quickly turned his attention back to the unconscious man in the next room. "The only thing we didn't account for was that his average core body temperature is much higher than what is considered normal. A cellular biologist we have on staff was able to determine the temperature we needed to get him up to and one of our engineers modified the heat packs to reach higher temperatures without burning the patient." Tony had to admit he was mildly impressed, however, he had other concerns now.

"You're absolutely sure that's him?" Tony asked. He looked at the agent closely as he responded, trying to discern any indication that Coulson was lying.

"Of course, I'm sure," Coulson said. "We found him on the wreckage of _the Valkyrie_ in a red, white, and blue get-up with his shield by his side. I mean, who else could it be." Tony then remembered that the man was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent trained to fool lie detectors. If he was lying, he wouldn't give any indication of it at all. "Look, I know it's hard to get your head around…"

"There's nothing I can't wrap my head around," Tony said. "But short of a miracle, the only explanation that makes is that this is a trick, and if it is a trick then why you're tricking me doesn't make sense."

"Then maybe you shouldn't rule out that miracle theory just yet," Coulson said.

"There's no such thing," Tony deadpanned.

"I know," Coulson said. "But sometimes it's better to accept that some things can't be explained."

"I'm sorry," Tony said. "But my world doesn't work that way." Tony rubbed his forehead as another wave of pain traveled through his skull. "Listen, do you guys have aspirin or anything like that on hand?"

"Of course," Coulson said. "We have everything; aspirin, ibuprofen, Anacin…"

"Anacin?" Tony questioned. "Didn't they stop making that in the 70's?"

"No, it's still around." Tony wasn't sure about that but brushed it aside.

"You know what, just give me the strongest thing you have." He just wanted to be done with the pain already.

"The strongest thing we have is meant for a man four times your size." Tony wasn't sure he wanted to know about that.

"Then I'll take the Anacin then." That kind of seemed like his only option.

"Anacin it is, then."

* * *

"Alright…" Knežević slurred out. "So this is shot number… Shit, I forgot. What number are we on?"

"Eight!" Oswin cheered like a small child watching _Sesame Street_. "Eight!"

"Eight," Knežević agreed. "So I think we should dedicate that with a toast!"

"We've toasted every other time we've taken a shot so far," Oswin pointed out.

"Still, we should toast now!" Knežević raised his glass with shaky hands, causing some of the glass' contents to spill out. "Just 'cause… Just 'cause we should."

"Alright." Oswin raised her glass with a little more elegance than her drinking partner. "What are we toasting to?"

"To…" Knežević paused to think about it for a second. "To the number eight! Thanks for being such a wonderfully symmetrical number!"

"Here, here!" The two then clinked their glasses together and downed their liquor in one gulp.

"So…" Knežević slammed his glass down a little harder than he intended and laughed. "So, you gonna tell me how you did that?"

"Did what?" Oswin played the fool flawlessly.

"All of that!" Knežević flailed his arms around to demonstrate what he was talking about. "Breaking into Stark Industries in front of a whole bunch of security guards and cameras without anyone even noticing! There must be a trick to it! Is there a trick to it? There must be a trick to it! I promise I won't tell anyone." Oswin let out an amused giggle.

"There isn't really a trick to it," she admitted. "It's just something I can do."

"What do you mean?" Oswin took a deep breath as she prepared to explain.

"Before I turned thirteen, everything in my life was great." Oswin shook her head. "Well, not always great, but normal. I had friends, I had loving parents… Everything a kid could want. Then I turned thirteen… That's when people stopped noticing me." She wiped at a tear that was rolling down her cheek. "I don't mean that in a self-centered teenage angst sort of way. I mean like I could stand right in front of my mother and father breaking plates and screaming at the top of my lungs and they wouldn't even hear me or see me. It was devastating." Knežević handed her a napkin. "Thank you." He nodded as she patted her face dry.

"What did you do?" he asked. "How did you get them to notice you?"

"I didn't," she said. "It went on like that for two weeks. My parents were worried sick. They called the police and had all of Blackpool out searching for me. Little did they know, I was right under their noses. Whenever this ability or whatever it wears off, I was in a huge heap of trouble. Everyone thought I had run away from home. No one believed me when I tried to explain what happened, not even my parents… The worst part was that it just kept happening. I'd go days without being noticed by anyone and I'd just go crazy. A lot of times I took it out on my parents and I really regret that, especially when Mum…"

Oswin burst into tears at that point. Knežević handed her tissues but was otherwise useless to comfort her. She eventually composed herself enough to start talking again.

"After my mum died," Oswin said through shuddering breaths. "My dad married another woman. Things only got worse from there and eventually, I hit a breaking point. I ran away from home, for real this time."

"How old were you?" Knežević asked.

"Seventeen," she shrugged. "It wasn't that big of a deal. I was already used to fending for myself – you must when no one can even notice that you might need help. Plus, I've always wanted to travel, so I did a bit of that. Paris, Milan, Hong Kong – you name it, I've been there. I learned how to control this "power" a bit; disappear only when I want to. Still, there are times when I can't get anyone to notice me no matter how hard I try, and it drives me up a freaking wall."

"What made you come to LA?" Oswin smiled.

"Oh, you know, the usual," she said. "Bright lights, big city, big chances at big scores… Why I stayed, though is the more interesting story."

"Should I try to guess his name?" Oswin laughed.

"You'll never get it," she said.

"Why?" Knežević asked. "Is it something stupid like Keith?"

"It's Nina."

"Ah," he said.

"Got a problem with that?"

"Nope," he said, popping the "p". "To each his own. …Or her own. It's only fair."

"Thank you."

"Though I must ask," Knežević said. "What is so interesting about Nina? Why did she make you stay?" Oswin laughed again but kept a genuine smile on her face as she responded.

"Because she can see me, even when no one else can." A sad, but a sentimental smile appeared on Knežević's face. He poured them two more drinks.

"I propose another toast." He raised his glass. "To Joyce and Nina; the only women in the whole world who can put that kind of smile -" he pointed at Oswin, who was grinning so widely that there was barely enough room for the rest of her face. "- On our faces." Oswin raised her glass.

"Here, here!"

* * *

 **Sunday, August 8th, 2010**

 _Yup, that Anacin was definitely from the 70's._

Tony got up from the couch and rubbed his eyes. His head felt much better, but he didn't think the Anacin had anything to do with it. The massive amount of sleep he had gotten in the past twenty-four hours probably had more to do with it than anything else. He supposed he should be embarrassed – most people who were willingly invited to a super-secret spy base not under the pretext of torture probably didn't spend most of their time there catching up on beauty sleep – but he knew that everyone in that room had probably seen him naked at least once before thanks to that magical thing called the Internet, so really, compared to that taking a nap on an international spy agency's couch wasn't that embarrassing in the grand scheme of things. Although, his neck had a weird crick in it.

Looking around the room, Tony was quick to notice that all the agents had gathered around the observation room window. Tony worked his way around the people until he was standing directly in front of the window next to Hill and Coulson.

"What's going on?" Tony asked.

"He's showing signs of waking up," Hill supplied. Tony stared at the man on the other side of the glass. He was as still as a statue and looked as perfectly serene as he did when Tony first arrived.

"Yeah, he's looking real lively there." Tony heard someone scoff at his sarcastic remark and a tablet was thrust into his hands. On the screen was a series of medical readings that were coming from the man who was supposedly Rogers.

"His brain waves are like those of a coma patient waking up," someone behind him explained. "And all of his other vitals are giving off similar readings." Tony paid them no attention as he analyzed the data for himself.

"So, he's waking up," he concluded.

"Precisely." Tony handed the tablet back to the woman behind him.

"I tried to call Fury, but I couldn't reach him," Hill said.

"Where is Fury?" Tony asked.

"Working on another project."

 _Another project, right._

"Should someone go in there?" Coulson wondered aloud. "If he does wake up he's going to be pretty freaked out. We haven't had a chance to finish setting up the scenario."

"I could go in there." Every head in the room snapped around to stare at Tony.

"No." The force with which Hill gave her answer was frightening. Any S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who heard that would have instantly backed off and dropped the issue. Tony wasn't a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

"Just hear me out…" She didn't even give him a chance to finish that sentence.

"No," Hill reiterated. "Stark, you are a civilian, not a trained agent. I'm not going to jeopardize your safety by locking you in a room with a potentially combative enhanced individual."

"Contrary to popular belief, I can handle myself," Tony said.

"Only when you're hiding behind a suit of armor." Tony's only response was a hard glare. Hill returned it in kind. "I know you have concerns over the authenticity of this man's identity, but you can't go in there. Not until we can ensure that it's safe for you to do so."

The room fell silent. Tony and Hill kept their hard gazes on each other. Tony was seconds away from giving up the fight when someone spoke up; the woman who handed Tony her tablet before.

"Excuse me for this, Commander," she said. "But I do think it's relevant for me to point out that Captain Rogers has been heavily sedated. When he does wake up he'll be too groggy and weak to even get out of bed, let alone try and harm someone."

"You're absolutely sure about that?"

"Yes ma'am," the woman reassured Fury's second-in-command. "I calculated exactly how much diazepam his body would need to remain in a relaxed state without overdosing. He shouldn't react violently." Hill considered the woman's words carefully for a few moments.

"Fury did promise Stark that he could talk to Rogers as soon as he woke up." Coulson's reminder seemed to solidify her decision.

"Alright, Stark," Hill relented. "I'll let you in there, but there will be agents behind the doors waiting to bust in there the second that the situation gets out of control. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly."

Tony was then led by a pair of agents to the other end of the room. A panel slid out of the wall, revealing a hidden doorway. Tony then followed the agents through the door down a narrow flight of stairs. At the landing there was another door that was twice as thick and had six different sets of locks; the door to the interrogation room.

The agents made quick work of the locks and allowed Tony to go inside. The door shut behind him and he heard one of the locks slide into place. Only one, though.

 _So much for my quick rescue._

If Tony had, to be honest, he thought S.H.I.E.L.D. was overblowing the danger "Steve Rogers" presented to him. Yes, the guy could probably lift a car over his head without breaking a sweat, but that didn't automatically mean he was going to go on a rampage and kill everyone. Though, he had to cut them some slack. The Harlem incident was still fresh in everyone's minds. It made sense why they were being so cautious.

Seconds after the door locked behind him, another door along the wall that the hospital bed was against opened and someone pushed a metal chair through. The door shut and locked again afterward. Tony took the chair and carried it over to "Steve's" bedside and sat down.

Tony studied the man's features closely. This time, it was completely undeniable that this man was Steve Rogers – or his look-alike clone, but Tony's mind didn't want to go down that rabbit hole of possibilities right now. He stared at the other man's face in complete disbelief. As if to make sure what he was seeing was real Tony reached out a finger and touched Steve's cheek. His skin felt ice cold and his eye twitched in reaction to the touch. Tony pulled his hand back so quickly you would have thought he burned it.

Things were quiet for a while. Tony felt the need to fill the silence but wasn't sure what to say. Despite that, he still thought it would be a good idea to say something. They said that coma patients could hear everything that happened while they were sleeping and in Steve's case that might be doubly true given that he was showing signs of waking up. So, Tony started talking in hopes that it would rouse the other man from his slumber.

"So," he said. "You're Steve Rogers… Or, supposedly you are. I wouldn't put it past S.H.I.E.L.D. to lie to me. They have in the past and I'm sure they will again, but that's a spy agency for you. I should have expected that. I must admit; this whole scenario goes well beyond reasonable belief. I mean, come on, a person surviving sixty-five years frozen in ice? Even if he is a genetically-altered super-soldier, that just doesn't happen. That shouldn't be possible. Maybe I just need to change my definition of possible. God, I remember my dad and Aunt Peggy telling stories about you…"

Tony stopped talking when he heard what sounded like a weak whimper come from the other man. He stood to get a better look at Steve's face. His eyelids twitched at a rapid pace before coming apart to reveal the clear blue irises hidden beneath. Tony grinned.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Captain," he said. "You have slept for quite some time."

* * *

 **Basically, if I screw anything up with anything having to do with science, don't blame me. Blame "no child left behind." I swear to God, the only reason I graduated high school is because that law exists.**

 **Anyways, if you enjoyed this feel free to review or comment or leave kudos or whatever you like.**

 **Remember kids, in real life, you don't want to go unfreezing people from ice. The curse of** **Ötzi is very much real. (Look it up.)**

* * *

 **Originally uploaded to FFN on 5/24/18.**


	6. The First Face This Face Saw

**Steve is probably a bit OOC this chapter, but blame it on the valium. Have you ever been on that stuff? All it does is make you feel confused and tired. I don't know how people get addicted to it, but they do!**

* * *

 **Saturday, February 3rd, 1945**

Steve always thought the worst part of a rollercoaster was the build-up to the first hill. The train would slowly be pulled to the top and the entire time he'd be dreading that first dramatic plunge to the ground. Once they'd got over that first fall he'd be having too much fun to notice the other death-defying drops, twists, and turns that the ride took (either that, or too busy throwing up all over his and Bucky's shoes), but that first hill was the one with all the anticipation and momentum thrown behind it and the only one where you'd have enough time to think about it to be scared.

Plunging an airplane into the Arctic Circle was a lot like that. Only instead of the anticipation of the drop, it was the actual drop itself where he was building up the fear, and the actual landing (or rather, crashing) part he was dreading. Giving one last glance at the photo of Peggy he had placed on the inside of his compass, he tightly gripped the control wheel and pushed it inwards, sending the plane into a downward descent. His heart clenched at the change of altitude, but he continued pushing forwards. What he was doing was the only option; the right option.

"Peggy…" he found himself saying.

"I'm here." Her voice came in through the static of the plane's radio.

"I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance." Freezing waters and the edge of an ice shelf came into view. It took Peggy a moment to respond, and when she did, it sounded like she was holding back tears.

"Alright," she said. "A week, next Saturday at the Stork Club."

"You've got it," Steve promised.

"Eight o'clock on the dot," she said. "Don't you dare be late. Understood?" Steve knew that he couldn't promise, not as certain death was rushing towards him.

"You know, I still don't know how to dance," he said instead.

"I'll show you how." Steve could hear the smile in her tone. Even in these circumstances, she could still smile. He could feel his fear ease a tiny bit as he took comfort in that fact. He hoped she'd still be able to smile afterward, too. "Just be there."

"We'll have the band play something slow." He watched as those last few hundred feet to the ground raced past him. "I'd hate to step on your…"

* * *

 **Sunday, August 8th, 2010**

Quiet.

Everything was black and quiet. Black, quiet, and cold…

 _God, it's cold,_ Steve thought. He wanted to feel around for a blanket to pull over himself but found that he couldn't move his arms. He couldn't even **feel** his arms. All he could feel was **cold**. For a second, he wondered if this is what death was like. He quickly dismissed it though. It may be black, quiet, and cold, but Steve still felt **aware**. He had a physical body. He may not be able to open his eyes or move any part of it, but he was still aware that he had one.

Although he was aware he still had a physical form, Steve couldn't remember what had happened; how he got here; why he couldn't hear, see, or feel anything. He remembered his childhood. He remembered that his mom got struck with consumption and succumbed to the disease. He remembered that there was a war going on; that Bucky enlisted. He tried to enlist too, but…

That was where his memory started getting spotty. He could remember training; the serum and what it did to him; Captain America; Hydra… It all seemed disjointed, though, like he was missing some pieces – names and faces, dates and places. It all seemed to blur together and mesh into one big event that he could barely even wrap his head around. Moments came by in flashes and Steve tried desperately to cling to them as they passed.

 _I was talking to a woman on a plane. She was beautiful. Who was she? Someone was flying the plane for us… Who was it?_

 _I remember drinking with Bucky and a few other people. I couldn't get drunk and they teased me about that, but by the end of the night, I was the only one sober enough to remember the way back to camp. Who were those people?_

 _Speaking of Bucky, there's something important that I feel I'm forgetting about him… Something about a train?_

The feeling of a rush of bee stings up his limbs broke Steve out of that train of thought. It was the same feeling one would get if they sat on their knees for a long time and then stood up. Steve tried to move his limbs to ease some of the pain, but that proved to be futile. His arms and legs were weighed down by something heavy and warm.

 _Warm…_

He wasn't sure how it was possible, but he was pleasantly warm and achingly cold at the same time. The warmth was coming from an external source. He wanted to curl up into it and let it envelop him completely It felt like he hadn't been that warm in a long time.

His sense of hearing came back to him suddenly (or maybe he had it all along and it was just that silent.) He heard a door open and close and the tiny **click** of a lock following it. Another door then opened and there was a **clang** of something metal being put on the ground. The door then shut. A pair of footsteps could be heard crossing the room. The person picked up the metal object (which Steve now guessed to be a chair), carried it to his bedside and sat down.

For a moment, Steve wondered what the person was doing until he felt a finger press against his cheek. Steve tried to open his eyes to look at whoever was poking him, but the person extracted their finger just as fast as they had placed it. Steve was a little annoyed that someone was poking him while he "slept", but at the same time, he wished they hadn't taken the finger away. It was physical contact; proof of life. In a strange way, he found himself craving that – acknowledgment of his existence.

 _When did I get so needy?_

A silence fell over the room again. Steve didn't hear the person leave, so he felt safe in assuming that the person was still sitting next to him. He tried opening his eyes again, but he couldn't. Then, he heard the person speak up.

"So, you're Steve Rogers…" Steve realized the voice that the person was a man. "Or, supposedly you are. I wouldn't put it past S.H.I.E.L.D. to lie to me. They have in the past and I'm sure they will again, but that's a spy agency for you. I should have expected that."

 _S.H.I.E.L.D.? Spy agency? What the hell is going on?_ Steve tried with all his might to get his eyes open; to get a word out, but it was useless. The man continued to speak.

"I must admit," he said. "This whole scenario goes well beyond reasonable belief. I mean, come on, a person surviving sixty-five years frozen in ice? Even if he is a genetically-altered super-soldier, that just doesn't happen."

 _You're right. That just doesn't happen. Seriously, sixty-five years? That can't be possible. This must be a dream._ Steve knew it wasn't though. He was getting too much sensory input for it to be a dream. Sure, he couldn't see, and his other senses seemed to be dulled a bit, but it was enough for him to determine that this was the reality. An insane reality, maybe, but still, reality.

"That shouldn't be possible. Maybe I just need to change my definition of possible." Steve couldn't agree more with that sentiment. "God, I remember my dad and Aunt Peggy…"

 _Peggy! That was the woman on the plane! I was talking to her on the radio before… What was I saying? Something about how I'd hate to step on her…_

"…Toes."

The man stopped speaking suddenly. Steve realized that he must have said that last thing aloud. He tried opening his eyes again and this time he was rewarded with bright streams of light pouring into his pupils. Everything was blurry at first, but after a few seconds, it all came into focus. A man with black hair, brown eyes, a warm complexion, and a neatly trimmed beard stood over him. From the look the man was giving him, Steve could tell that the man wasn't sure what to make of him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Captain," the man said. "You have slept for quite some time."

"What the…" Steve tried to get the words out, but his voice was too weak and cracked from disuse. It probably wouldn't have mattered anyway. There was some sort of mask covering his face and mouth that muffled his speech.

"Uh, yeah," the man said as he started lifting the mask off Steve's face. "You probably want this off." The man reached behind his head to pull off the elastics that secured the mask to his face. Steve took in a nice deep breath of fresh air. It felt amazing. "I don't know if it's okay to take this off. Just say something if you feel like you're asphyxiating."

"Yeah…" Steve half-croaked, half-gasped out. His own voice sounded foreign to him. "I'll be sure to do that…" Steve's eyes scanned everything within his field of vision. He couldn't turn his head left or right, so he could only really look at what was in front of him, which was the man's face and the ceiling tiles above them. "Where am I?"

"We're somewhere in New York City," the man said. "I'm not sure where and there were so many twists and turns through that hallway, it's very much possible we're under a different section of the city than I originally started in."

"Who are you?" was the next question out of Steve's mouth. This man knew Peggy and Steve apparently knew this man's father…

"Tony Stark." Steve's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Name ring any bells?" It did, but he wasn't sure how. For some reason, his mind was foggy, and his memory was cloudy.

 _Stark… Stark, Stark, Stark, Stark. Stark. Tony Stark. Stark. Stark… Howard! Howard Stark!_

He flew him and Peggy… Somewhere to do something. He couldn't really remember the details, but he remembered he was wearing his Captain America uniform…

 _Not the point._

"Howard…" Steve said. "Is he…?"

"Yes," Tony said. "Howard Stark was my father."

"Was?" Tony looked away from him at the question. Steve knew what that meant, but he wasn't exactly processing the information. He was being told that someone he had just spoken to a few days ago had died and had a son. (Well, not in that order, obviously.) One would say he was taking it a little too well, but he also had enough valium in his system to knock out an elephant. He'd probably have some form of emotional reaction later when the drugs wore off, but for right now he was completely numb to it. However, he could see in Tony's reaction that he wasn't completely numb to it, so he said the only thing he probably could. "I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago… At least for me," Tony added when he realized his mistake.

"How long?" Steve had to ask.

"Almost twenty years, now…" Steve's eyes went wide.

"Twenty years?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "But that's nothing compared to all the years you've missed."

"How long has it been since the plane crashed?" Steve could see the conflict in Tony's eyes. "Come on, you have to tell me." Tony opened his mouth to say something, but then the door on the other side of the room unlocked and opened. Tony turned to look and see who was coming.

"Alright," a masculine voice said. "Stark, I think you've had enough alone time with my patient."

"But Fury told me…" Tony started to say before the doctor cut him off.

"Director Fury wants to see you in the observation room." Tony tried to object but the doctor was firm in his response. "Now."

Tony turned to look back at Steve. His unwillingness to leave and his frustration at being told what to do showed on his face plain as day. Steve felt Tony place his hand on his shoulder.

"I'll see you in a little bit." Tony then got up and walked out of the door on the other side of the room. Steve didn't have much time to miss his presence as the doctor stepped into view. He was an older man with a shaved head and a blond mustache.

"Captain Rogers," he said. "Good to see you're awake. My name is Dr. Rory Fox. I'm the head medical practitioner at this facility."

"Nice to meet you," Steve said. "I'd shake your hand, but I can't seem to lift my arms… They're weighed down."

"Ah, yes," Dr. Fox said. "We've placed modified heat packs all around your body to warm you up. That's the weight and the heat you're feeling, but you'd probably be having a hard time lifting your arms anyway. We've given you a rather large dose of valium, so you're not at your full strength right now."

"Valium?" Steve questioned.

"It's also known as diazepam," Dr. Fox explained. "It's a sedative used to treat anxiety and panic attacks. There was some concern that you might be agitated upon awakening. To compensate for your superior metabolism, we gave you a much higher dose than what the average person would receive, so if you feel any side effects – confusion, amnesia, ataxia – just let me know and we'll stop administering it to you."

"Alright," Steve said. "I think I'm experiencing all of those…" Although, Steve had to admit the drugs seemed to be doing their job. He had never felt so comfortably numb in his entire life, even if his mind was spinning with questions as to where he was and what happened. It was both pleasant and terrifying.

"Alright then," Dr. Fox said. "We'll take you off the valium immediately. I just have to disconnect this bag." The doctor gestured to something outside of Steve's field of vision and Steve nodded weakly to give the go-ahead. The doctor then disappeared from his view, but he could still hear him fiddling with some piece of equipment. "Just a fair warning, but it will take a while for the drugs to wear off. Do you feel tired at all?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "Is that supposed to happen?"

"I would be concerned if you didn't." Dr. Fox finished fiddling with the equipment and stepped back into view. "Like I said, valium is a sedative. It's supposed to make you feel drowsy. In fact, I was surprised that you didn't fall back to sleep as soon as you woke up."

"Well, I kind of wanted answers." That came out much slower and groggier than Steve wanted it to. "Still do…"

"You'll get them, Captain," Dr. Fox assured. "But first you rest and regain your strength. I'm going to do a quick physical examination of you; examine your eyes, ears, etc. Is that alright?"

"Yes," Steve nodded, and the doctor made quick work of the examination. He shined a light into Steve's eyes and ears, listened to his heartbeat and his breathing, examined his throat, and checked his pulse. All of these were procedures that Steve was quite familiar with, however, the doctor eventually had to move on to procedures using more modern equipment. None of the tests were invasive, but the unfamiliar instruments did give Steve a sense of unease…

The first procedure was a measurement of his temperature. The basic principle was the same, but the instrument looked completely different than the thermometers he was used to. Dr. Fox explained that the small, thin, metal rod went under his tongue and told the box-like device what his temperature through a wire that connected the two. The concept reminded Steve of something that someone (probably Howard) had shown him; these big towering machines that could calculate huge numbers far more efficiently than the human brain and that could "talk" to each other.

 _What were they called again? Computers! That's what they're called!_ Steve had to admit, he didn't like how slow his thoughts were moving, but he pushed that aside and compiled as the doctor took his temperature. Whatever result he got back seemed to satisfy the doctor, who then moved on to the next procedures.

The next procedure was the one that scared Steve the most. At first, he thought that it would be just like the thermometer; like what he was used to, just looking a little different. Once the blood pressure cuff was secured around his bicep, the machine it was attached to started filling it up with air. As the cuff got tighter and tighter, Steve started to fear that it would get so tight it would take his arm clean off. He tried as best as he could not show it on his face, but he wished he could reach for his knife and cut the cuff off himself. Eventually, the machine stopped pumping air in and slowly deflated the cuff, much to Steve's relief. Dr. Fox made some comment about his blood pressure is a little higher than he expected, but Steve gave no response as he considered how lucky he was to still have his right arm.

Thankfully, everything was smooth sailing after that. The last procedure only involved clipping a plastic box to his index finger for a few seconds until it beeped. Dr. Fox explained that all it did was check the oxygen levels in his blood. Steve kept waiting for the thing to prick his finger and take a blood sample, but it didn't. It still gave the doctor the result he wanted, so Steve supposed that whatever it did worked.

"I'm sorry that took so long," Dr. Fox said. "I usually have an entire staff to do this work for me, but I didn't think it would be wise to overwhelm you with people right now."

"Okay," At this point, Steve was fighting to keep his eyes open. Not only did he need to get answers, but he was also afraid that if he closed them, he wouldn't be able to open them again. "Can you tell me what's happening now?"

"Patience, Captain," Dr. Fox said. "Director Fury will be in to explain everything once you're good and rested. So, I'd take the opportunity to take a nap and catch up on some much-needed sleep." Steve heard the doctor turn and start moving towards the door. Steve had just one more question he needed to ask.

"That man I was talking to before," he said. "Stark… Tony… Can I see him again?" Dr. Fox stopped in his tracks and hesitated a moment.

"Yes," the doctor said. "We'll see what can be arranged."

A door then opened, shut, and locked. Steve tried to fight off sleep if possible, but unfortunately, it was a foe that even Captain America couldn't beat. He eventually shut his eyes and let the darkness claim him again.

* * *

 **If anyone's wondering why I know so much about valium, it's because I have a horrible fear of needles and the only way I can get shots/IV's put in is to put me on valium. That way I'll only scream. I'll be too weak to fight back. Yeah, though, this is what basically being on valium is like. You're really tired and confused, but you'll also accept anything anyone tells you anywhere. Basically, it's like being on the Internet at three AM.**

 **Anyways, thank you for reading so far! If you have any thoughts you'd like to share, please leave them in a comment or a review!**

 **Remember kids, don't do drugs.**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 5/28/18.**


	7. The Angels You Don't

**Happy Birthday to our favorite billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!**

* * *

 **Sunday, August 8th, 2010**

Tony did everything he could to keep himself from stamping his feet up the stairs like a petulant child. If he wasn't convinced that S.H.I.E.L.D. up to something, pulling him back out of the room before he even got a chance to talk to Steve did it. Either this wasn't the real Steve Rogers, or there was something else they didn't want him finding out. …Or he just had a headache and was being overly paranoid, but Tony didn't think that likely. This was S.H.I.E.L.D., the spy agency that doesn't let anyone know anything until it's convenient for them. Yes, he was still bitter over the whole waiting six months to tell him they had the solution to the palladium poisoning while he suffered and showed all the signs of someone who was considering suicide thing, but even if they hadn't pulled that, Tony would still be suspicious. He was suspicious of anyone who asked to access his private files. He had to be. After all, anyone who wanted access to his or his father's designs obviously had less-than good intentions.

Walking through the door that led back to the observation room, Tony could see that all the now unnecessary staff had cleared out of the room, leaving behind enough medical personnel to monitor Steve's condition. Commander Hill and Agent Coulson remained, though, and Director Fury had returned to the room from wherever he disappeared to before. It wasn't like Tony cared, he just wanted to know why they called him back.

"Good to see you again, Fury," he said as he approached the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. "How are things in the land of make-believe?" Fury ignored Tony's sarcastic comment.

"What the hell are you doing Stark?" he asked.

"Well, I was having a conversation with Captain Rogers," Tony said. "Which you rudely interrupted."

"Captain Rogers just woke up," Fury said. "He needs to be looked over by a doctor before he has any visitors."

"You said I could talk to him as soon as he woke up," Tony pointed out.

"I should have been more specific," Fury said. "I meant that you could talk to him as soon as the doctor gave us the okay for him to have visitors."

"Well, you should have said that," Tony said. "Besides, Hill also okayed it."

"Commander Hill already gave me her reasons for making that call," Fury said. "For right now, Captain Rogers needs to rest. It's already bad enough you told him about your father's death and that you're Howard Stark's son. All he needs to do is figure out the math and realize it's been a lot longer than he probably thinks."

"I don't know," Tony said. "He seemed pretty out of it when I talked to him."

"Probably due to the drugs he was on and the trauma of the whole situation," Coulson offered as an explanation.

"Regardless," Fury said. "That still doesn't make it okay. Once the Captain has all his wits about him, he's going to realize that something is wrong and that's going to make it a whole lot more difficult to explain to him that he's been frozen for the past sixty-five years.

"I might have mentioned something about that, too," Tony said. "I don't know if he heard it or not. He was still out when I said it."

"Did you say anything else we should know about?" Fury asked.

"No," Tony said. "I only talked to him for two minutes. That wasn't enough time to go over the finer details of the last sixty years of world history."

"You didn't say anything that would cause him distress, though, right?" Fury asked.

"Other than the Howard thing," Tony said. "No, I didn't."

"Good," Fury said. "Once Dr. Fox gives the okay, I'm going to talk to Rogers and explain the situation. In the meantime, Stark, you're free to go." Fury reached into his pocket and pulled out a USB flash drive. "These are all the files we extracted on Captain Rogers and Project: Rebirth. No copies were made and none of the information left this room."

"Thank you." Even though he accepted the flash drive, Tony planned on throwing it in the ocean once he got home. He had no doubt that S.H.I.E.L.D. had planted a virus or a Trojan horse on there to gain backdoor access to his systems. He would expect nothing less. However, that wasn't his top concern right now. "But I'm not leaving. Not until I can talk to Rogers."

"You already have," Fury said.

"Like I said before," Tony said. "I only got two minutes in before you sent the doctor in to interrupt us. Plus, you people probably gave him more valium than he needed, so he's completely out of it right now. I wouldn't be surprised if he's forgotten that I even spoke to him by now."

"Do you still doubt that the man in the next room is Captain Steve Rogers?" Tony remained silent. "Because that was the deal; you could talk to Rogers and ask any question you wanted until you were convinced that he was the real deal. So, are you convinced that this man is Steve Rogers?"

Truth be told, Tony really wanted to believe that this was Steve Rogers, but there was this niggling feeling in the back of his mind that just wouldn't go away; the sense that something else was at play. Maybe not directly having to do with Steve, but S.H.I.E.L.D. had something else up their sleeves. Of that, Tony had no doubts.

Thankfully, Tony was saved from having to answer Fury's question when Dr. Fox stepped into the room. All eyes turned to the doctor as they waited to hear his assessment of Steve's condition. Seeing as he had the rapt attention of the entire room, the doctor wasted no time in giving his prognosis.

"Captain Rogers' condition is stable," he said. "All of his vitals are in the ranges we expected for his enhanced physiology. His blood pressure was a little higher than I expected, but all things considered, I'm sure he'll easily make it through the night."

"How is he right now?" Fury asked. "Is he up for visitors?"

"Well, right now I want him to rest," Dr. Fox said firmly so that way certain people (Tony) would understand that this is non-negotiable. "Captain Rogers is both physically and mentally exhausted from the trauma of this whole ordeal. Although they appear to be sleeping, most coma patients' brains are still active as they remain in their vegetative states. Of course, it's taxing for the brain to be continuously running at full power without the 'break' that sleep provides – although the brain never really takes a break – so a lot of times a patient will awaken from his coma and fall straight back to sleep. It's not that unusual. Captain Rogers seemed to be fighting sleep while I was checking up on him. That's a pretty impressive feat considering how long he was under and how much valium we've been pumping into his system."

"How long do you think it will be until he can have visitors?" Fury asked. "We kind of can't waste time here in bringing him up to speed."

"I'd say give him a good ten to twelve hours of solid rest before you try waking him up," Dr. Fox said. "But if he wakes up on his own before that, I would say it's safe to go in there. It would be conducive to his recovery for him to be given the truth of the situation as soon as possible, especially given what Stark's already told him." Tony shot a glare at the doctor for talking about him like he wasn't even in the room.

"Is there anything else that would be necessary for us to know?" Fury asked.

"Yes." Dr. Fox turned his gaze over to Tony, showing his obvious displeasure that he was even in the same room as him. "Rogers was asking to speak to Stark before I left him to rest."

"Moi?" Tony pointed at himself. "Are you certain?"

"He asked for you by name," Dr. Fox said, but had to add "Lord only knows why." Tony didn't care. If Steve was asking for him, then Tony still had a chance to really talk to him. Tony turned and looked at Fury expectantly. The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. gave Tony a hard stare.

"Fine," he said. "You can talk to Rogers again, but only after I have spoken to him myself. Do you find that agreeable?"

"Yes," Tony said.

"Good," Fury said. "Because that's the only offer you're getting." Tony extended his hand and Fury shook it.

"Can I just ask for one thing?"

* * *

Steve didn't feel like he slept that long; five or six hours at the most. Certainly not long enough to feel well-rested. It did feel like the drugs he was on were starting to wear off. He wasn't tired anymore and his senses weren't dulled, which was good because if his super-human hearing hadn't been restored, he wouldn't have heard the footsteps coming down the stairs.

He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He hoped it was Tony coming down to see him. He wasn't sure why, though. Maybe because Tony was the first person he saw? Regardless, Steve knew that likely it wasn't Tony coming down the stairs. That would be too good to be true…

Which, it was. Instead of Tony, a tall, bald, black man with an eyepatch over his left eye stepped into the room. The door shut behind him and he started to approach Steve.

"Captain Rogers," the man said. "Glad to see you're awake. I thought you would be asleep longer, given everything you've been through."

"Something tells me I've gotten more than enough sleep for one lifetime." Steve looked the man directly in the eye. "Please, just tell me how long it's been." The man took a deep breath before responding.

"Sixty-five years." The shock hit Steve instantaneously. He gripped at his chest as the air in the room started to thin.

 _So, Tony wasn't exaggerating,_ he thought. Although, deep down inside, he had known it to be true all along.

"You gonna be okay?" the man asked.

"Yeah," Steve said as he tried to make sense of it. "Yeah, I just… I had a date."

 _Peggy! Oh my god, Peggy! Is she okay? Is she alive? I was on the radio with her when I crashed! She had to listen to that…_

"Peggy Carter," Steve found himself asking. "Is she okay?" Thankfully, the man responded quickly.

"Agent Margret Carter is just fine," he said. "She's in an assisted living facility in London. She's safe." Steve seemingly deflated a little bit as that concern left his mind.

"Good," he said. "I was talking to her when I… I'm just relieved nothing happened to her."

"It's a good thing, too," the man said. "Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"How so?" Steve asked.

"My name is Nick Fury," the man said. "I'm the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. – an international peace-keeping organization established by Agent Carter and Howard Stark."

"Stark…" Steve said. "Tony said his father was dead."

"Yes," Fury said. "Car accident, almost twenty years ago. Howard Stark and his wife were killed instantly on impact."

"My God," Steve said. "And is Tony really…"

"His son?" Fury finished for him. Steve nodded. "Yes." Steve looked down as he took in the information. "I'm sorry Stark had to tell you all that. We wanted to break the news to you slowly, but circumstances didn't allow for it."

"No," Steve said. I'd rather have the truth laid bare in front of me rather than have people hold things back from me for fear of how I'd react."

"Alright," Fury said. "What would you like to know?"

"Everything." Steve looked back up. "How is this possible? How am I still alive? Is anyone else alive? Bucky…"

It all came back to Steve in a flash. The train, the ambush, Bucky dangling from the side of the freight car, reaching out for him… Steve had to look down and take a deep breath to collect himself. Once the cold shock of the memory wore off, he looked back up at Fury.

"Bucky Barnes is dead. I watched him die." Despite saying it, Steve couldn't believe it. His heart clenched at the memory of watching his best friend – his brother – fall to his death. He forced himself to look up at Fury as he swallowed down the pain. "Is there anyone else? Is there anyone else who knew me that's still alive?" Fury was silent for a moment. Steve braced himself for impact.

"I'm sorry Cap," he said. "But as far as we know Agent Carter is the only surviving person on this Earth that knew you – before or after Captain America."

Steve was absolutely devastated by the words. Even if he knew it was coming, it didn't make them hurt any less.

* * *

Tony smirked in amusement as a very annoyed-looking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent walked into the observation room with a bag of burgers in-hand. He was probably enjoying this a little too much, but he didn't care. Any opportunity to ruffle a S.H.I.E.L.D. agents feathers was an opportunity that must be taken. The agent shoved the bag into Tony's chest.

"Here's your damn burgers, Stark." Tony took the bag from the agent and checked to make sure that everything he ordered was in there. It was, but Tony still had to mess with the guy.

"What no toy?" The agent wasn't amused.

"Consider yourself lucky you got the burgers at all," he said. "Burger King doesn't start serving lunch for another hour. Do you know how much begging and pleading I had to do to get them to change over the kitchen just to make two burgers?"

"Still, you couldn't have grabbed one of those paper crowns on your way out?" The agent rolled his eyes and walked away. Tony thanked his retreating form before turning and moving back over to the window that overlooked the interrogation room.

Looking into the room, Tony could see that Fury was still talking to Steve. Although he wished that Fury would just hurry things up and let him get in there, he understood that Steve needed time to adjust to all the news he was getting hit with at once. Already Tony could tell that he wasn't taking it well. Tony couldn't help but feel guilty about that. After all, he probably didn't help things by revealing certain details before Steve was ready to hear them.

Tony turned and sat down at the circular table. He couldn't imagine it would be too much longer. Fury and Steve had been talking for the past forty-five minutes and despite his guilt over the situation, Tony couldn't help but feel a little impatient. Sure, he didn't doubt that this was the real Steve Rogers, but he still wanted to talk to him because… That was a good enough reason, right?

As time went on, more and more agents were sent back to do their assigned duties. Even Coulson was dismissed to go back to his regular job (and he was clearly disappointed about it.) Now the only people left in the room were a handful of doctors to monitor Steve's condition, and Commander Hill, who would probably stay until she received direct orders from Fury to be elsewhere. Besides that, there were also guards standing outside all the doors. They didn't look armed, but Tony knew better than that. Personally, he didn't think that it was necessary as Steve had already proven that he wasn't a threat to anyone. However, Tony had to remind himself that the reverse was also very much possible; that anyone could be a threat to Steve, especially in his current weakened state. The thought caused Tony to shudder and he quickly immersed himself in his phone to distract himself.

Eventually, Fury stepped back into the room. Tony quickly turned his phone off and slipped it back into his pocket. He stood up and looked at Fury expectantly.

"Is he okay?" Tony said when Fury didn't say anything. "Is he alright to talk?"

"He's understandably shocked," Fury said. "But he should be okay as long as you keep things light." Tony nodded in understanding.

"Thank you." Fury mirrored his nod.

"He's all yours, Stark." Fury then walked past him. Tony didn't look back as he stepped through the door panel and descended the stairs to the door to the observation room. He knocked on the door once but realized that the door was so thick that Steve probably wouldn't hear it, so he just went in any way.

Walking into the room, Tony was surprised to see Steve staring in the direction of the door like he had been expecting someone to walk through it. Tony shrugged it off and crossed the room to the metal chair he previously occupied and sat down.

"Hey there, living legend," Tony said. "I don't know if you're up for it, but I got you a cheeseburger if you're hungry." Tony held up the bag to show Steve. The Super Soldier's face noticeably brightened.

"Cheeseburger," he said. "They still make those?"

"Yep," Tony said, popping the "p". He handed the bag over to Steve. "They might have gotten a little cold while I was waiting. Sorry about that."

"No, it's okay." Steve took a burger from the bag and handed it back to Tony. "I'm fine with this."

"Alright." Tony reached into the bag and retrieved the other burger. Quickly unwrapping it, Tony took a bite of the burger and savored the taste. It was a little cold, but not so much so that it was inedible. "So good," he said.

"Yeah?" Steve was being a little hesitant about digging into his burger, even though he had seemed eager for one moment earlier.

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "In fact, the first thing I wanted after I came back from Afghanistan were these cheeseburgers."

"Really?" Steve said. "They're that good."

"Well, probably any American cheeseburger would have sufficed after experiencing that hell," Tony said. "It just so happened that Burger King was the closest burger joint to the airport at the time, but that's not the point. Eat up, Cap. I know you're probably starving."

"I think that's an understatement." Steve then unwrapped his burger and took a bite. When he made a strange face, Tony began scanning the room for a waste bin.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Are you going to be sick?" Steve swallowed and shook his head.

"No," he said. "Just didn't taste like what I was expecting." Tony took another bite of his burger and didn't taste anything wrong with it.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "What do you taste?"

"Sugar." Tony's brow immediately furrowed. "A bunch of other weird flavors I can't identify…" Tony took the burger from Steve's hand and bit into it. It tasted like a regular cheeseburger to him.

"I don't taste anything wrong…" That's when it dawned on him. "Shit, I just thought of this. They put all kinds of artificial chemicals and flavorings in food now. With your enhanced senses and the fact that you're not used to eating any of them, you can probably taste them stronger than most people can." He handed the burger back to Steve.

"Is it safe to eat?" Tony wasn't sure how to answer that.

"It won't kill you immediately," he finally settled on. "You might get heart disease from it in sixty years if you start eating this stuff regularly. Otherwise, one burger shouldn't kill you." Steve didn't seem entirely convinced but took another bite of the sandwich anyway.

"I guess it's okay," Steve said. "At least the burger is actual beef." Tony wanted to question that remark but stopped himself. Just for the sake of keeping his breakfast down, he knew he probably shouldn't.

Since he didn't want to push Steve into talking about anything he didn't want to talk about yet, Tony waited for him to speak up and change the subject himself. So, they ended up eating in silence for a good while.

"I'm sorry," Steve eventually said. "I just don't know what to say. This is all…"

"A lot?" Steve nodded. "I get it."

"It's just knowing where to start is hard," he admitted. "I have some hundred-thousand questions running through my head and I don't know what to ask first."

"I can say the same thing," Tony said. "So why don't you just ask the first thing to come to mind?"

"Alright," Steve said. "Why do you… Why were you here when I woke up?" Tony raised an eyebrow at the change of direction but brushed it off as Steve simply misspeaking.

"I wanted to talk to you," Tony said. "Plain and simple."

"Why?"

"Easy," he said. "I wanted to make sure it was really you." Steve's face became perplexed. "I wasn't entirely convinced when S.H.I.E.L.D. told me that they had found you alive, so Fury offered me the opportunity to talk to you myself; see if you were legit."

"How were you going to do that?" Steve asked. "You never met me."

"One question." Tony popped the last of his burger into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "What's fondue?" Steve didn't even try to stifle his groan.

"Howard told you about that?" Tony tried hard not to laugh at Steve's embarrassment.

"Everyone told me about that," he said. "Peggy confirmed the story, though."

"Well, that's wonderful," Steve said.

"Trust me," Tony said, putting a comforting hand on Steve's arm. His muscles tightened for a split second but relaxed quick enough for Tony not to feel the need to pull his hand away. "Out of all the embarrassing stories that someone could have out there about themselves, that one is probably the least embarrassing."

"Are you an expert on that?" Steve asked.

"Believe me, you don't want to know." Steve picked up on Tony's dead serious tone and decided that the subject needed to be changed ASAP.

"So, do you work for them," he asked. "S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Oh God, no," Tony said. "I'd be terrible at the whole international spies/espionage thing. Besides, my face is far too recognizable. I run… Well, I used to run the company my father started. I'm not used to not being able to say that. Pepper does that now."

"Oh," Steve said. "So, what do you do instead?"

"I'm working on a few different projects," Tony said. "Pepper and I have been working on the idea of a self-sustaining skyscraper for a few months now. I'm designing it and Pepper's handling the business logistics of it. We just broke ground on that a few days ago. Plus, you know, there's the whole Iron Man thing…"

"Iron Man?" Tony's face broke out into a huge grin. The words Nick Fury said during their first meeting almost a year ago echoed through Tony's mind.

 _"You think you're the only superhero in the world? Mr. Stark, you've become part of a bigger universe. You just don't know it yet."_

"Oh," he said. "I guess Fury forgot to mention that you're not the only superhero game in town anymore."

* * *

The conversation went on for another good forty-five minutes. Tony told Steve a bit about how he had been captured in Afghanistan the previous year and the whole Iron Man story. Steve could tell that Tony left a few things out but didn't say anything about it. Obviously, he wasn't ready to share certain details with him (or anyone, really) so he didn't push.

So far in talking to Tony, Steve had only really noticed one similarity between Tony and his father – the passion and love for inventing and technology. Even though Steve couldn't understand anything he was saying, as Tony explained the Iron Man suit to him, Steve could see the spark of excitement in his eyes and hear the enthusiasm in his voice. It was infectious. Steve found himself smiling alongside Tony. He liked it. He liked it…

Eventually, the conversation had reached its natural end and Tony was collecting up their burger wrappers to throw in the trash. Steve knew that Tony was going to have to leave soon. He was sad but understood that he had other places to be. Steve expected Tony to go straight from the trash bin to the door but was surprised when Tony came back to the bed and leaned in close so that his lips were right next to Steve's ear.

"Listen," he whispered. "This is going to be the only chance I get to say this, so pay attention. Do not let S.H.I.E.L.D. take blood from you or do any blood tests. As a patient, you have the right to refuse any medical test that they try to force on you. Understand?" Tony pulled back to look at Steve, who nodded. "Good." Tony then reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper that he then handed to Steve. "That's my phone number. Call me as soon as you figure out how to use a phone." Tony started to walk away, and Steve scoffed.

"I know how a phone works," he said.

"No, you don't." Tony walked through the door and it slammed behind him. Steve's heart fell.

 _Oh God, I'm attracted to him…_

* * *

 **If this chapter is unrealistic in any way, I'm sorry. I've never been on a date and have never been in a relationship. I don't know how those things start off. The only thing resembling experience I've had in that arena is a crush I've had on the actor Norman Reedus for the past two years. Other than that, I'm clueless.**

 **Anyways, thanks for reading this chapter! Be sure to leave a comment or a review!**

 **Remember kids, the Burger King is always watching you, especially when you're sleeping.**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 5/29/18.**


	8. Everything is Cherries On Top

**It's just cherries! Cherries! It's comin' up cherries on top!**

* * *

 **Monday, August 9th, 2010**

Oswin awoke to the sound of a loud **bang** and her entire house shaking. Even though she had been living in LA for a few months, she had never experienced an earthquake of this magnitude before. Sure, the ground always gave little tremors from time to time, but this was a lot more than that. It had to be a 5.0 or higher. A big one, if you will.

Jumping out of bed, Oswin tried to remember everything she had learned from both Nina and the internet about what to do during a major earthquake.

 _Step One: Don't panic!_

Recounting that step in her mind, Oswin realized that it might be a little too late for that, so she just decided to skip that one and go on to the next one.

 _Step Two: Get down and cover you head and neck with your arms._

Oswin got down onto her knees, covering her head and neck with her hands and forearms. She then moved on to the next step on her mental checklist.

 _Step Three: Stay down and wait for the shaking to stop._

That would have been easy enough for her to do, if it wasn't for the smoke detectors to choose this moment to go off. Fear gripped the young woman's very core. She didn't prepare for this! She didn't ask Nina what to do if you're in a burning building during an earthquake, and the dot-gov site she got the preparedness information from surely didn't go over that scenario. Using the best judgement, she could, Oswin decided that the safest option would be to stay put and escape if it was safe to do so once the shaking stopped. Needing some form of anchor, Oswin grabbed the metal frame of her bed and held onto it for dear life.

It felt like hours, but, it had only been less than a minute since the shaking started that it came to a stop. Once the house felt stable again, Oswin got up and bolted from her bedroom, through the living room and out the door. She only stopped when she reached the sidewalk.

Turning around, Oswin kept her distance from the building while she tried to glance in the windows. She couldn't see anything on fire. It occurred to her that the earthquake could have caused something to malfunction in the smoke detectors and there was no actual fire, but she didn't have concrete proof of that and she wasn't going to run into a potentially burning building on the assumption that it wasn't on fire. That would just be stupid. However, at the same time, she couldn't call the fire department. After all, not only did she have stolen chemicals from Stark Industries in her basement, but she also had at least fifty-thousand dollars' worth of stolen goods nicked from jewelry and department stores throughout Southern California. Hell, she didn't even own the house she was staying in. She just started squatting in a foreclosed upon home shortly after she started dating Nina. Calling 911 wasn't an option.

As she stood out there, it occurred to her that Knežević hadn't emerged from the building. He had been staying in her basement since they pulled off the heist at Stark Industries. It was the least she could do given that he didn't have anywhere else to go. It worried her that he was still inside. If the house really was on fire, then that meant he was in danger. Seeing as she couldn't call the police or fire rescue, Oswin briefly considered going back in herself to save him. However, that course of action was proven unnecessary as Knežević finally appeared at the front door, screaming at the top of his lungs with his shirt on fire.

Oswin screamed in terror the second she saw him. Knežević clawed desperately at the article to get the burning piece of fabric from him. He eventually managed to pull his shirt over his head and dropped it on the ground. He abandoned it to smolder in the yard and ran at top speed over to Oswin.

"Run," he shouted, but Oswin continued to stand there frozen and perplexed. "Run! You must run! The house is…"

The following explosion threw Oswin and Knežević clean across the street into the neighbor's yard. Luckily, no cars, fences, or other yard debris impeded their paths, so they both landed safely on the nice, hard ground. It wasn't a comfortable landing, but at least they weren't paralyzed.

As soon as she landed, Oswin forced herself to stand. She tried to assess her injuries, but that ended up being a little harder than she expected. She could still see, stand, and breathe, but she couldn't hear anything, nor could she feel any part of her body. For a second, she feared that she had died and was now a ghost but quickly dismissed the idea as ridiculous.

 _It must be the adrenaline_ , she thought. She looked around for Knežević and found him standing a few feet from her. His lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. _Damn, I hope the hearing loss isn't permanent!_ Oswin tried to read his lips but failed miserably. Eventually, Knežević realized that she couldn't hear him, gave up, grabbed her by the wrist, and started pulling her along with him. It wasn't until she saw the flashing red and blue lights in the distance that she finally understood what he was trying to tell her.

 _"The cops are coming! Run!"_

* * *

Being CEO of a multi-national conglomeration like Stark Industries was no easy task. There were deals to be made, shareholders to keep happy, stock prices and the overall health of the company to keep up with. Not to mention all the deadlines to meet and the paperwork to do. Tony had chosen well when he picked Pepper Potts as his successor. She was a master businesswoman in her own right and had been by his side running the company for years as his personal assistant. She was the natural choice for the role. However, her increase in responsibilities left little time in her workday for anything else, and that included constantly worrying about Tony Stark.

As much as she loved Tony, Pepper knew that he didn't always take the best care of himself. The palladium poisoning incident was only a testament to that. It wasn't that she didn't trust him or thought he needed to be constantly babysat, but she would feel a whole lot better if there was someone there to keep an eye on him throughout the day, help him with anything he needed, and make sure he didn't do anything stupid and dangerous. Well, anything more stupid and dangerous than what he already did. Since Tony obviously wasn't going to find one himself, Pepper had no choice but to do it for him.

Having already gone over her schedule for the day, Pepper knew that she had two meetings scheduled before the interviews for Tony's new PA in the afternoon. She hadn't heard back from Tony yet as to whether he'd be joining her in interviewing the applicants (who had already been narrowed down to a short-list of five people), but she did receive a text from him the night before informing her that he had made it back to LA safely. Her best guess was that he was jet-lagged and was sleeping in. If she didn't hear from him by her lunchtime she'd go to his house and make sure he was okay. These constant migraines he was having were really starting to worry her.

Just as Pepper was finishing going through her e-mail, there was a knock at the door. She instructed them to come in and her own personal assistant stepped through the door; a dark-skinned man in his late 20's or early 30's by the name of Waylon.

"Miss Potts," he said. "The head of the chemical engineering department wishes to speak with you."

"Tell him to make an appointment," she said. "I have a meeting to get ready for."

"He says it's urgent. The police have already been called." That got Pepper's attention.

"Send him in right away." Waylon nodded and complied. A moment later, an older man with hair as red as it was the day he was born stepped into the room. If Pepper remembered correctly, his name was Dr. Fredrick Griffith. Pepper stood and crossed the room to greet him.

"Dr. Griffith, why do the police need to be called?" Dr. Griffith slowly lets out an anxious breath.

"You cut right to the chase, don't you?" Pepper continued to give him a pointed look. Dr. Griffith chose his next words carefully. His career depended on it. "We've been robbed."

"What?" Pepper's eyes narrowed at the bearer of bad news. "When? Why? How?"

"Security is down there now." Dr. Griffith kept his voice calm and neutral, hoping it would help diffuse the situation. "They're sealing off the labs as a crime scene. LAPD is in route."

"Is the building under lockdown?" Pepper grabbed her purse, keys, staff ID/master keycard and anything else she needed to show the police.

"No ma'am," Dr. Griffith said. "Only you, Mr. Stark, and the head of security have the clearance to declare a lockdown. The other two aren't here yet, so I was sent to get you." Pepper nodded and stepped out of her office to address her assistant.

"Waylon," she said. "I'm declaring a code blue situation effective immediately. Are you aware of the procedure?"

"Of course, ma'am," he said. "I'll notify security and staff immediately."

"Thank you." Waylon nodded and began dialing extension numbers. Pepper turned back to face Dr. Griffith. "What was taken? Do you know?"

"All of our current research projects are accounted for, but…" Griffith hesitated and swallowed. Pepper didn't release her gaze from him until he came out with it. "A great deal of pure chemical elements was taken from our storage locker."

"By 'a great deal', what do you mean?" They both knew she wasn't going to like the answer.

"Enough to make a bomb if you know what you're doing."

* * *

After his wonderful weekend getaway to the magical land of S.H.I.E.L.D., Tony was left feeling a little more than drained. The stress and confusion of the entire ordeal were more than his mind could take and he ended up crawling under the sheets and passing out as soon as he got home. By the time morning rolled around, Tony wasn't feeling much better. He ignored his first two wake-up calls, hoping to get in a few more minutes of glorious sleep before he had to start his day and face the world. However, by the third time JARVIS urged him to awaken, Tony knew that he couldn't put it off any longer. He got out of bed, showered, dressed, and was off to work in less than thirty minutes.

Even though he had been feeling much better the day before, Tony was now feeling horrible. Not only was his headache back, but now he had an entire slew of other symptoms on top of it. His throat hurt, he felt hot, and he constantly had to resist the urge to cough. He had most likely picked up a cold from someone at S.H.I.E.L.D. as they had been the only people that he had been in contact within the past couple of days, so it was just the cherry on top of his horrible weekend. The only silver lining of all of it was meeting Steve, which Tony hadn't been expecting when he found out that the super soldier was still alive.

Another thing he hadn't been expecting was the battalion of police cruisers swarming the parking lot of the Stark Industries complex. Tony quickly parked his car and rushed towards the building. Turning his phone back on, he saw he had missed calls from Pepper, the LA County Sherriff's Department, and at least three other numbers he didn't recognize.

 _Shit,_ he thought.

"JARVIS," he said. "What's going on in the building?"

"It appears the facility has been broken into." Tony's eyes went wide, and his breath escaped his lungs. "The LA County Sherriff's Department, FBI, and ATF have been contacted. The complex is under a code blue lockdown situation."

" _Code blue: Premises locked down but no active shooter threat. All staff is to go about business as usual unless otherwise or top-tier management. The standard code for a potential information leak or suspected robbery." Double shit._

"Why wasn't I informed of this?" Tony asked.

"I tried several times to inform you of this, Sir," the AI said. "But you either didn't listen or said you would take care of it later after you slept." Tony mentally slapped himself.

"Yeah," Tony said. "Next time I do that blast the loudest, most annoying noise possible and don't stop until I'm awake and listening."

"Understood, Sir," JARVIS replied.

"Also, do me a favor and call Pepper," Tony requested.

"Right away, Sir." The call-in-progress screen then popped up. Tony brought the phone to his ear and waited for the call to connect. As he did so, he walked up to the front entrance and tried to open the door. It remained stiffly in place. At that point, a kid who looked too young to be wearing an LAPD uniform ran up to him.

"Excuse me, sir," the wet-eared newbie said. "But this is a closed crime scene. You can't be here…" Tony held up his driver's license and the staff ID/master keycard that positively identified him as STARK, ANTHONY EDWARD. The kid nervously gulped and stuttered as he tried to apologize. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I didn't mean…"

"Hello, this is Virginia Potts," Pepper's voicemail greeted. "Please leave a message and I will get back to you." Tony internally cursed as he hit the end call button on his phone. He turned back to the kid, who was still babbling away with apologies.

"Listen," Tony said. "That's great and all, but I need to get in the building. Can you get someone to let me in?" He hadn't remembered it until the door rejected his card, but the exterior card sliders were disabled in a code blue lockdown, even for the master keycards. It was an extra precaution to make sure no one could get in or out by any means – even by stealing one of the three master keycards. (However, the master keycards still worked to unlock the interior doors.)

As the kid radioed his supervisor to let Tony through the door, Tony's cell phone began to play "Shoot to Thrill". Checking the caller ID, he saw it was Pepper and answered the call.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi." The stress in Pepper's voice was apparent, even over the phone. "I was just speaking to the agent in charge…"

"Yeah, what's going on?" Tony looked through the glass to see if anyone was coming. "JARVIS tells me we're under code blue and I pull up and there are all of these police cars…"

"We've been robbed." The entire world seemed to freeze around Tony for a brief second as he took in those words.

"What?"

"We've been robbed," Pepper repeated, but Tony still couldn't believe it.

"That's not possible," Tony said. "When? Where? How?"

"The chemical engineering labs, sometime over the weekend." Tony nodded even though Pepper couldn't see it, and mentally ran through a list of things valuable enough to warrant stealing. "Don't have any word on the how, though."

"Do you know what was taken?" Tony could see the head of security, Tobias Wallace approaching the door.

"Yes," Pepper said. "I really hate to tell you this, but they took more than enough hydrogen and oxygen to cause an explosive reaction, along with sodium, aluminum, and carbon." Tony's eyes immediately widened, and he almost didn't notice Wallace had unlocked the door for him to come in. His mind began listing off all the horrible things that one could make with those combinations of elements. As Pepper had already mentioned, hydrogen and oxygen had an explosive reaction when combined, but the other ones had reactions that could be just as devastating.

 _Hydrogen and carbon combined can make highly flammable methane gas which in certain circumstances can become explosive._

 _Sodium and hydrogen make sodium hydrate, which can ignite with exposure to air._

 _Oxygen and carbon can create carbon monoxide, a toxic gas that is deadly to humans and most animals when exposed to most concentrations above 35ppm._

The list went on endlessly in Tony's head. He had to force himself to snap out of it and focus on his conversation with Pepper.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"Down by the chemical engineering department," she said.

"Alright," Tony said. "I'll be down there in a moment."

"Alright," Pepper said. "I'll see you then." The call then ended. Tony then slipped his phone back into his coat pocket and followed Wallace down the maze of hallways that led to the chemical engineering department.

When he arrived, he found a large group of people congregated in front of a section of hallway that was blocked off by yellow police tape. Among the group of people were Pepper, Dr. Griffith, Griffith's assistant (whose name Tony could not remember), an FBI agent, an ATF agent, an officer from the sheriff's department whose nametag identified her as Deputy Sherriff Fairchild, and a woman who had no clothing identifying her affiliation, but stood out with her dark hair, bright green eyes, and curvy yet strong figure. Everyone immediately took notice of Tony as he approached the group.

"Tony…" Pepper started to say but was quickly interrupted.

"Mr. Stark," the FBI agent said. "Glad you could join us. Special Agent Robin Bergeron, FBI." He held out his hand and Tony shook it.

"Are you in charge of this investigation?" he asked.

"No," a female voice from beside Tony responded. He turned and saw the woman with no identifying clothing. "He just thinks he is. Agent Jenifer Duran, Department of Homeland Security."

"Homeland Security?" he questioned. "What stake do they have in this?" The FBI and ATF he understood. The theft of potential explosives tended to pique their interest. Homeland Security, though…

"We're the Department of Homeland Security. We tend to get all hot and bothered when potential terrorist threats come up." Well, that made sense.

"Wait for a second, 'potential terrorist threat?'" an alarmed-looking Pepper said. "You didn't mention that before."

"Given the explosive nature of the reactions of the chemicals that were taken, it's not out of the realm of possibility," The ATF agent said. "Special Agent Natasha Ness, ATF."

"Well, it's not necessarily an explosive device, right? Those chemicals can make other things." Pepper looked at Tony, her eyes desperate for some form of reassurance.

"Sure, they can." Tony knew what he was saying was bull, but Pepper clearly needed a little bit of hope now. "Aluminum and oxygen can form corundum crystals such as rubies and sapphires."

"Sodium and carbon make sodium bicarbonate; baking soda," Dr. Griffith offered.

"If you know what you're doing and careful, you can make hydrogen peroxide from the hydrogen and oxygen," Griffith's assistant pointed out.

"And all these elements can be sold separately on the black market for a pretty penny," Bergeron said.

"But none of those options seem likely," Duran said. "I mean, why go breaking into the headquarters of one of the top international corporations if you aren't trying to make some sort of statement? I don't know about you, but to me, it has the words 'extremist cell' written all over it."

"How did this happen?" Tony said. "That's what I want to know. This facility has the best security system and the best security officers it can possibly have, and JARVIS is programmed to notify me if the alarms are tripped or if reports of a break-in come in from this address. It's more secure than Fort Knox. No one could just walk in here and take whatever they wanted."

"We're not sure," Wallace said. "The alarms never went off and none of my personnel have said that they saw anything suspicious in the past few days."

"LAPD didn't receive any reports of a robbery or any other suspicious activity coming from this area before this morning," Fairchild confirmed.

"So, it was an inside job," Tony said.

"It's a possibility," Bergeron said. "We have no solid evidence to confirm or deny it, though. My staff is going through the CCTV footage and interviewing all Stark Industries employees on the premises."

"My people have the perimeter locked down along with LAPD," Fairchild said.

"ATF is searching the grounds for evidence and helping the FBI conduct interviews," Ness said.

"And what is Homeland Security doing?" Tony asked.

"Supervising all of it." Translation: "Doing nothing and taking all of the credit."

"Is there anything we can do to help the investigation?" Pepper asked.

"Both you and Mr. Stark have one-hundred percent confirmed alibis," Duran said. "You're not considered suspects at this time. You're free to go about your business as usual. I'll be sure to keep you in the loop."

Tony normally wouldn't have so readily agreed to allow the cops to run around the building unsupervised, especially when the building had already been broken into by God-knows-who and with what intentions, but at the same time he felt like he was about to keel over in a devastating coughing fit. So, he decided it would be best to let Pepper answer for him and escape at the first possible opportunity.

"Thank you, Agent Duran." Pepper offered the agent a polite smile and shook her hand. "Please contact us with any new information you have."

"Will do." Duran offered her hand for Tony to shake. He did so wordlessly and with a nod before following Pepper back towards the executive offices.

Resisting the urge to cough is never easy. Your body wants to rid itself of all the fluids, irritants, foreign particles, and microbes that gather in your lungs and breathing passage. It does so by forcing you to exhale quickly in a sometimes-violent fashion. It's even worse when you're sick. Not only is there an increase in mucus production that can cause a post-nasal drip to occur, but the throat is also irritated by whatever viruses and/or bacteria causing the ailment making it even more difficult to keep yourself from coughing. By suppressing a cough, you are preventing your body from clearing your airway, which only increases the urge to cough. The point is, it's never a good idea, especially when your lungs are working at a diminished capacity because there's a hunk of metal in the middle of your chest preventing them from properly expanding, like Tony.

As soon as he was safely behind the door to Pepper's office, he broke down into a coughing fit that sent him to his knees. Pepper tried to get closer to help him, but he held up a hand for her to keep back. She didn't need to be sick, too. When the coughing finally subsided, Tony found himself gasping for air. Pepper grabbed a few tissues off her desk and handed them to him.

"Thank you." Tony wiped off his face as best he could.

"Are you okay?" Pepper asked.

"I'm fine," he assured. "I'm fine. Just have a bit of a cold is all."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I've never seen you cough like that before." Tony got to his feet.

"I'm fine," he assured. "It's just a cold."

"That's not 'just a cold,'" she said. "You were completely out of breath. Do you feel okay? Does your chest hurt?"

"No."

"I think you need to see a doctor," Pepper said.

"I don't need to see a doctor," Tony said.

"Yes, you do," she said. "You're coughing like that and you have a heart condition. That can't be safe or healthy or…"

"Pepper, I'm fine," Tony said. "And I promise I've learned my lesson. The second I'm not feeling fine, I'll tell you."

"You promise?" Pepper asked.

"I promise," Tony assured.

"Alright," she said. "I believe you."

"Good," he said.

"And promise me you're not going to undermine the police investigation," Pepper said.

"What would make you think I was going to do that?" Pepper gave Tony that looks again. He relented. "I was only going to have JARVIS save a copy of the CCTV footage so that way I can see for myself what happened. Other than that, I will let the police do their jobs." Tony then took the opportunity to check his phone.

 _No new calls or messages. Damn!_

"Good." Pepper nodded. "Good to hear. Now, are you still going to be here this afternoon for your assistant interviews?"

"Do I have to?" Tony asked. "I mean, I know whoever you pick is going to be good."

"The first interview is at one-thirty." Pepper began gathering a few miscellaneous files from her desk. "I have a meeting that can't be postponed any longer. I'll see you then.

She then left to go to her meeting with Tony following shortly thereafter to start his workday.

* * *

Oswin clutched her knees tightly as she gasped for air. Ever since the explosion that morning, she and Knežević had been running and barely even stopped to take a breath since. At first, it had been fun; exhilarating almost. However, that feeling completely wore off by the time the first hour had passed. Now she didn't know what part of town she was even in. She could be anywhere from Pasadena to South Central by now. All she knew was that the sun was setting, her feet hurt, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into the first bed she saw and sleep for the next two years.

Looking up, Oswin saw Knežević in much the same condition that she was in; hunched over and gasping for air. She brushed her hair out of her face and swallowed.

"Do we have to keep running for much longer?" she asked.

"Not much longer, I don't think," Knežević said.

"Where are we going?" Oswin said.

"Somewhere safe," he said. "I know of a place."

"Is it far?" she asked.

"No, it shouldn't be," he said. "But we have to get going now."

Oswin nodded in understanding. Knežević ran at top speed towards the nearest fence and climbed over it. Oswin followed closely behind.

 _God, I hope he knows what he's doing,_ she thought.

* * *

Tony groaned as he stepped away from the holographic screen that was projected around his desk. He had been watching the CCTV footage for the past three hours and he had come up with a whole lot of nothing. Although he wanted to keep watching the footage until he found something; anything to go on, but eventually, the pain of his headache and the fatigue of the cold forced him to take a break and lie down on the couch in his lab.

He checked his phone for the zillionth time that day. He only turned it off when he was driving because he really didn't need that distraction with his head as fogged as it was. However, he still had no new calls or messages.

 _I guess no one's taught him how to use a phone yet,_ was the last thought that Tony had before he threw his arm over his eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

 **Once again, not a chemist and I probably shouldn't have graduated high school. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Feel free to leave a comment or a review at any time!**

 **Remember kids, fuck a silver lining 'cause only gold is hard enough! (I'm excited for _Pray for the Wicked_ , can you tell?)**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 6/1/18.**


	9. Frontier Psychology

**Remember that disclaimer at the beginning about less-than-appealing language and intense scenes? Yeah, I do too.**

* * *

 **Saturday, April 30th, 1927**

There are many things we aren't meant to overhear as children. Sometimes, it's just a little tidbit of information that isn't too consequential when it really comes down to it. Less often, it's something that completely traumatizes them for life. However, unfortunately for Steve, it was the latter of the two.

It all started because Anne Barnes, Bucky's mother, had told Steve, Bucky, and Bucky's sister Rebecca to go play outside while she talked to Steve's mother, Sarah Rogers. Steve and Bucky were just fine with that. Even though Steve couldn't run around much due to his asthma, they could always find something to do. However, Rebecca just had to be a brat about it.

"I don't wanna play outside," Rebecca said, stamping her feet. "I wanna go in!"

"Well Ma said she wanted us to play outside, so we have to play outside," Bucky said.

"Why?" the six-year-old whined.

"She wants us out of her hair right now." Rebecca continued to stamp her feet and scream. "Would you knock it off? The neighbors are staring at us."

"We'll find something fun to do, Becca," Steve tried to assure the younger girl. "But you need to stop crying."

"No!" Rebecca's face was bright red, and tears were streaming down her face. "It's too cold! I wanna go in!"

"Please stop crying," Bucky said. "What would Ma say if she saw you acting like this?"

"I don't care! I wanna go in!"

Bucky was reaching the end of his rope. To level with his sister, he bent down to her level and put both of his hands on her shoulders. However, Rebecca quickly pushed his hands off her and took off at top speed down the sidewalk. Bucky said a word that would've gotten him in trouble if an adult was listening and began to chase after her.

Steve tried to follow in pursuit as well, but he only got three-quarters of the way to the end of the block before he got winded and had to catch his breath. He watched as Rebecca turned the corner and disappeared and Bucky followed closely behind her. It was then that Steve figured out how to stop her. Rebecca wasn't allowed to cross the street on her own. If Bucky didn't manage to catch her, she would most likely just keep going around the block and end up in front of the apartment building in which the Barnes' lived once again. So, once he was back to breathing (relatively) normally again, Steve positioned himself in front of the building and waited for Rebecca and Bucky to come running around the corner again.

Sure enough, Rebecca came running back around the corner with Bucky close on her heels, yelling for her to stop before he told on her to their mother. He kept trying to reach out to catch her, but the younger girl had an unstoppable amount of sheer will and determination to get away from her older brother that gave her a boost of speed that managed to just keep her out of his reach. Despite this, she wasn't exactly paying attention to where she was going, and neither was Bucky as he was too focused on trying to grab her. As a result, when Steve stepped into her path to try and gently stop her, she ended up slamming into the sickly boy at an incredibly high speed. Bucky slammed into them both and the force of it all sent them tumbling to the ground, with Steve taking the brunt of the fall.

Steve could already feel a few scrapes burning against his skin. He could feel blood sliding down his cheek and maybe on his right arm, too. However, that didn't stop him from trying to grab ahold of Rebecca's arm when she started to move like she was going to get up and bolt again. In response, Rebecca pulled his hand off her and bit it. When Steve screamed, Rebecca let go and ran back inside the building. Bucky wasn't even back on his feet yet when he went over to make sure Steve was okay.

"What happened?" he said. "What'd she do?"

"She bit me!"

"What?"

"She bit me! Look!" Steve held his hand up for Bucky to see. Sure enough, there was a bloody, crescent line starting from the space between his thumb and index finger down to the edge of his hand. Bucky once again said a word that would have gotten him in trouble if an adult was listening and ran back inside the building, screaming his sister's name. Steve got up off the ground and went inside as well. After all, he couldn't exactly leave those cuts wide open, ready to become infected.

Making his way up to the apartment, Steve could hear Bucky and Rebecca shouting at each other. They quieted down, though, when Mrs. Barnes' voice bellowed from the kitchen.

"James! Rebecca!" she shouted. "Didn't I tell you to go play outside?" Bucky most likely gave some sort of response, because the next thing she said was "I don't care what Rebecca did, I told you kids to go outside, so go!"

That was about when Steve walked into the apartment. Bucky and Rebecca both went silent, but neither one emerged from their bedroom. Mrs. Barnes let out an exasperated sigh.

"I'm going to have to drag them both out of there kicking and screaming, aren't I?"

"Don't strain yourself," Steve could hear his mother warn. "It's not good for the baby. Besides, I'm fine with them being in the house, just as long as none of them come barging in."

"Easier said than done," Mrs. Barnes said. "But I guess they're being quiet for now. They might not burst in for a bit." Steve walked over to the threshold of the kitchen. Both Bucky's mom and his mom were sitting at a round table with their backs to him. Before he could get a chance to speak up and get the women's attention, Steve's mother spoke up again.

"I'm sorry for burdening you with all of this, Anne. I just have no idea who I could go to with this."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Mrs. Barnes said. "I mean, I can barely imagine what any of that was like."

"Oh, it was just terrible!" Steve could see his mother lift a napkin to her face to wipe away a few tears. "I could barely believe it myself! It was the most horrific thing I have ever seen! There were more patients than beds! Children were covered in filth! It was just…" she broke down into a fit of sobs. Mrs. Barnes put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"You need to calm down, Sarah," she said. "Those people are sick anyways. There's nothing you could do to help them."

"I wish I could," Steve's mother said. "I wish I could! All of them… I just wanted to take all of them home, clean them up, and give them a nice, home-cooked meal. I don't care if they're sick, lunatics, retarded, queer… No one should ever be forced to live like that, no one."

"Sarah…"

"There was this one boy there," Steve's mom continued. "He couldn't have been much older than Steve and Bucky. Twelve? Thirteen, maybe? I don't know what was wrong with him, but five nurses were holding him down to a mattress while a doctor stuck a needle in his eye. When he was done, he pulled the needle out and the kid was still. If the doctor didn't check for a pulse himself, I would have thought the kid was dead."

"Oh, my goodness…" Was all Mrs. Barnes could say in response.

"I wish I never took that job in the first place," Steve's mother said. "If I had any idea it would be like this and we didn't need the money, there was no way I would have ever agreed to it."

At that moment, a loud shriek was heard from down the hall. Steve turned to see Rebecca running out of the bedroom and just barely stepped out of the way before she ran over him again.

"Mama," she cried at the top of her lungs. Bucky then appeared in the doorway beside Steve.

"Knock that screaming off now," Mrs. Barnes reprimanded. "I swear, they can hear you in Timbuktu."

"Mama," the girl said at a softer volume. "Bucky stuck his finger in my ear."

"What?" Mrs. Barnes turned and looked at her son with a furious gleam in her eye. "James Buchannan Barnes, you know better than to hurt your sister! I'm ashamed of you!"

"It was only a wet willy, Ma," Bucky defended. "She wasn't hurt."

"I don't care," she said. "You can't just…"

"Ma, she bit Steve!" Bucky held up his friend's bleeding hand as proof. Mrs. Barnes let out a sharp gasp and Steve's mother got to her feet.

While Mrs. Barnes lectured her daughter about why it was wrong and impolite to bite people, Steve's mom led her son to the Barnes' bathroom to tend to his wounds. Bucky followed close behind and the two boys explained what happened outside.

"Wow," Steve's mother commented as she inspected his hand. "She got you good, didn't she?" She flipped his hand around to make sure she had cleaned off all the blood. "Thankfully, I don't think you're going to need stitches. We'll just wrap it up and make sure to keep it clean."

"So, is that a good thing?" Bucky asked.

"He'll live," Steve's mom assured. "He just might not be able to hold a pencil for a few days."

As Steve's mother finished up wrapping up his hand, Mrs. Barnes appeared in the doorway, still looking extremely cross.

"James," she said. "Go to your room."

"But I didn't do anything wrong," Bucky complained.

"Don't try that with me," Mrs. Barnes warned. "You still stuck your fingers in your sister's ear! She could have gone deaf! I don't care if it's 'just a wet willy," I don't care if she wasn't hurt, I don't care if she bit Steve! She's being punished for her actions, but that doesn't excuse your actions! You do not treat your sister or any other woman like that! Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Bucky replied obediently.

"Now go to your room," Mrs. Barnes said. "Your father is going to want to speak with you as soon as he gets home. Bucky nodded and complied, stepping out of the bathroom and down the hall. Mrs. Barnes' gaze became sympathetic as she turned it on to Steve's mother. "I am so sorry, Sarah. I have no idea what got into that girl, but I'll tell you it's going to get knocked out of her **fast**."

"Water under the bridge, so long as she doesn't do it again," Steve's mother assured. "We better get going, though.

"Alright, sorry this had to be cut so short." Mrs. Barnes then reached out to give Steve's mother a hug.

"It's alright, Anne." The hug was a little awkward since Steve's mom had to practically lean over the other woman's pregnant belly. "Thank you for listening. You have no idea how much that means to me."

"Not a problem," Mrs. Barnes said. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm all ears." Steve's mother nodded and shortly after they left.

What Steve heard his mother say in the kitchen haunted him. His mother almost never cried. As a nurse, she saw people who were sick or injured every day and was never once driven to tears. Even when Steve was sick himself, she was able to hold it together, even with the bleakest diagnosis. So if something was so horrific that it made his mom cry, it was really truly horrific.

* * *

 **Wednesday, May 4th, 1927**

A few days later, Steve was sick and bedridden again. Ever since he was a little kid, Steve had a weak immune system and struggled with various ailments. Chief among them was his asthma, which made breathing difficult, especially when he had a cold.

Steve's mother had called for a doctor to come and look at him, but the man hadn't recommended anything she wasn't already doing; just fluids and rest. However, things were getting bad. Steve could barely take a breath without hacking up his lungs. Even though she knew they couldn't afford another hospital bill right now, it was looking more and more like she had no other choice.

"Steve," she said. "Baby stay right here. I'm gonna find someone to take us to the hospital, alright?"

"No!" Steve's mother's eyes went wide at the outburst. "No, please don't."

"Why not?" She sounded more confused than angry or upset. "What's wrong?"

"Don't want to go…" was all he gave as a response.

"Are you worried about the cost?" she asked. "Because if you are, stop it right now. That's for me to worry about later. Right now, we need to get you to the hospital."

"No… Not sick…" Steve's mother began to wonder if he was a little loopy with a fever, until he said "don't want a needle in my eye…" She instantly went pale and struggled to breathe for a second.

"Steve," she said. "Did you overhear my conversation with Mrs. Barnes the other day?"

"Yes," came the instant reply. His mother covered her mouth and said something she didn't want him to hear.

"How much did you hear?" She had to ask.

"A lot," he said. "I heard you crying and I heard you telling Mrs. Barnes how they treated people at the hospital. I don't want to go there! I don't want any of that to happen!"

Steve's mother took a deep breath as she tried to figure out the best way to quell her son's fears.

"Steve, look at me." She waited for him to make eye-contact. When he continued to stare at the wall beside them, she shook his shoulder. "That's not a request. Look at me." Steve turned his head and looked her in the eye. His eyes were red and glassy with sickness, making the blue of his irises stand out even more. "Listen, I'm sorry you overheard that conversation. That wasn't something we wanted you kids to hear. That's why we sent you outside, but you must understand something; that wasn't a regular hospital I was working at, it was an asylum. Do know what that is?" Steve shook his head no. "An asylum is a place where they send people who have something wrong with their heads and need other people to take care of them. Lunatics, schizophrenics, the retarded, queers… They're sent there to keep them from hurting themselves or others. All of the people there are sick and they're not going to get better."

"What about me?" Steve asked. "I'm sick."

"Not that kind of sick, honey," she said. "You're not that kind of sick, and even if you were I would never allow you to be put into an asylum. They would have to step over my dead body first. I would never let you be treated like that. No one should ever be treated like that."

"Then why are they?" Steve asked.

"Because none of them have anyone that cares about them," his mother explained. "That's the saddest thing about that place; no one – not the nurses, not the doctors, and probably not even their families – cares about them. It absolutely broke my heart. Even though they were offering me good money to work a couple nights a week, I couldn't in all good conscience do it. It doesn't matter if they're retarded, queer, or just plain insane; just because they're sick doesn't mean we have to stop treating them like people. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Steve nodded.

"Are you okay with me leaving to find someone to help me get you to the hospital?" Steve hesitated a moment. "I promise, no one is going to stick a needle in your eye.

"Okay," Steve relented, and his mother promptly left to get help.

* * *

 **Tuesday, August 9th, 2010**

Steve pulled the blankets tighter around himself as he laid awake in bed. The day before, S.H.I.E.L.D. had moved him from the hospital room he was in before to a small apartment on one of the upper floors. It had all the basics; kitchen, table, chairs, bathroom, and a bed. Other than that, though, the room was completely sparse. The most high-tech thing in the room was the refrigerator, which left Steve amazed with simply the amount of food in it, which was probably a good thing. They didn't want to overwhelm him with too many modern marvels of the twenty-first century all at once.

The only thing that Steve had asked to be added to the room was more blankets. Even though they had told him that his body temperature was back to where it was supposed to be, he still constantly felt cold and was practically shivering at times. Nonetheless, the agents complied and got him as many blankets as they could find. Currently, Steve was wearing the warmest-looking set of sweats that S.H.I.E.L.D. had provided to him and had at least six sets of blankets piled on top of him. He still felt cold.

Steve shifted positions to try and get a bit more comfortable and accidentally knocked his compass off the bed. Luckily, he caught it before it hit the ground and it suffered no damage. He flipped it open to make sure it was okay, though. It was the only possession he had left in the world, after all. When he opened it, he found himself faced with the image of Peggy Carter.

The photo was slightly faded and cracked with time and water damage, but it was still unmistakably her. A swell of emotions came over Steve as he stared at the image. It had only been a few hours at the most for him, but for Peggy and the rest of the world, it had been almost seventy years. She was an old woman now. Most, if not all the people they knew before were dead. The world had changed, and Steve had seen none of it. Instead, he had been thrust into it all at once and wished the best of luck. On top of all that despair, he felt like the most horrible person on the face of the planet.

Alright, he would agree that was an overstatement, but he really did feel like a bad person. As far as he was concerned, Peggy had been gone for two seconds and he already felt attracted to someone else. What made it worse was that this person was Howard Stark's (an alive, vibrant person the same age as him two days ago but was now a dead man with a thirty-something-year-old) son. If that wasn't six different kinds of messed-up, he didn't know what was.

He had known for a long time he liked both genders. He could never find an explanation as to why. He just did. He couldn't stop. He knew. He tried through sheer force of will. It didn't work. However, he still liked girls, so he figured he wasn't totally sick so long as he didn't act on his impulses around guys. That didn't work either. So, for the longest time he waited for the other shoe to drop; for someone to put two and two together and have him locked up in the asylum.

Once he met Peggy, however, things changed. He fell in love with her and only had eyes for her. He was going to go on a date with her. Once or twice he even imaged having a life with her after the war.

Then once he woke up seventy years later, he couldn't stop himself from checking out the first good-looking person he saw. The paragon of American values, everyone!

Truth be told, he wasn't afraid of being thrown into the asylum anymore. If he was deemed a danger to himself and others, they would more likely put a bullet in his head than lock him up. That, to him, was more merciful. Besides, it wasn't like anyone knew. The only person he had ever told was Peggy. If he was going to spend the rest of his life with her like he dreamed, then she had a right to know. She was understandably shocked at first, but she eventually recovered and promised not to tell anyone. He knew she would never in her life go back on her word, especially to him, so he felt safe that no one knew, and no one would ever know. Other than that, he didn't tell anyone, not even Bucky – the closest thing he had to a brother.

Deciding he had spent enough time thinking for that morning, Steve carefully shut the compass, pulled himself out from under the warmth of the blankets, and walked over to the kitchen. On his way there, the stack of S.H.I.E.L.D. files sitting on the small dining table caught his attention. He had a lot of catching up to do and sadly it was seeming more and more like these files were only the tip of the iceberg.

* * *

 **Yeah, some of this is so ideologically sensitive that I worried about whether or not I should change this from a T to an M, but this isn't the entire fic and I don't want people thinking that this is porn, so...**

 **Remember kids, even if the author really REALLY doesn't have the will to live, it's still not an excuse to come to her house and murder her.**

* * *

 **Originally published to FFN on 6/3/18.**


	10. No Heat! No Pressure!

**Happy Father's Day to any potential Fathers out there, and if you're not a father, just think of it this way: Only five more months until Not a Father's Day rolls around!**

* * *

 **Tuesday, August 10th, 2010**

It was a normal Tuesday morning in Los Angeles. The sun was shining, the plants were dying because the sun was shining for the ninety-seventh day in a row, and most every adult between the ages of twenty-one and sixty-five were beginning to start their workdays. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. That was, unless they thought to check in their backyards.

Annabeth Story was going about her morning routine. She had breakfast, showered, took her dog out for a walk around the neighborhood, and went out to her backyard to water the small tomato plant she had hanging from a metal hook along the back fence. It was the last thing she needed to do before heading off to work. She made it halfway across the yard before something blue and shiny on the back fence caught her attention. Putting her watering can down, she walked over and inspected it.

As she got closer, she realized that the top of the fence was covered in what looked like a dark greyish stone that had translucent blue to white appearance around the edges. Being a geologist, that sparked her interest. She reached out and touched the stone, finding it to be smooth with some rough edges. Suspecting what it might be, she looked at the way it reflected the sunlight and breathed on it to see how fast the fog cleared away.

"Holy smokes!" she exclaimed once she came to the realization that she had a real, rough sapphire stone attached to her back fence.

* * *

Tony didn't make it a habit to sleep late. In fact, often he ended up being awake into some ungodly hour of the morning and force himself to stay that way until he got whatever he needed to do done and take a nap whenever the opportunity arose. It probably wasn't the healthiest way to live, but he still always managed to finish everything he needed to and managed to at least sneak an hour or two of sleep in there. If it was enough to keep him functional, Tony wasn't going to worry about it.

It was rare for him to fall asleep at such an early hour of the evening, and even rarer to wake up at such a late hour of the morning. When he did awaken, it was to a tarp haphazardly thrown over him, a smoothie waiting on the table for him, a colossal mess in the kitchen from the making of said smoothie, the perpetrator of said mess standing by for approval (he'd give DUM-E a B- for effort), and that he had exactly twenty-two minutes to shower, get dressed, and get across town before the board meeting started. Impossible odds, but Tony figured he could make it if he rushed through the shower and ignored all the speed limits set forth by the State of California Highway Department.

He managed to get showered and dressed in record time and probably would have managed to at least get on the highway before the meeting started if he hadn't almost tripped over his new personal assistant on the way out the door. To be fair, she probably shouldn't have been sitting with her back against the front door, but she still got mad anyway.

"Ow!" She rubbed the back of her blonde head as she got up off the ground. She shut her laptop as she glared at Tony. "What the hell? That hurt!"

"Why were you sitting in front of the door?" Tony asked as he struggled to remember her name. He could remember that her last name was Conroy, but her first name was eluding him. "And what are you doing here? I thought I told you to meet me in my office."

"I did," she said. "You never showed up. Miss Potts told me I'd most likely find you at home, in your basement, working, so I came here but the bouncer wouldn't let me in." She gestured at the ceiling and the walls as she said the word "bouncer."

"It's just JARVIS; an AI," Tony quickly corrected before moving on to the more pressing issue. "Did Pepper say anything else before you left?"

"Just that you better not be late for this board meeting, which is in…" Conroy glanced at her wristwatch and made a sound like that of a seal being eaten alive by a walrus. "Eight minutes, if the time is correct on this thing for once." Tony sure hoped it wasn't. He walked past Conroy and town towards his car. That's when he noticed the lack of strange vehicles in his driveway.

"How did you get here?" he had to ask as he opened the driver's side door of the car.

"I took a cab," she shrugged. "I'm not supposed to drive or operate machinery until I know how Lotensin affects me. Which is a real shame given I've just gotten my license to operate forklifts, tanks, and small aircraft."

"Good to hear," Tony said. "Get in." Conroy's eyes were wide as she looked from Tony to the car, and back to Tony again. Clearly, she was trying to calculate the vehicle's total worth in her mind.

"Are you sure?" She was trying and failing to resist the urge to smile.

"Yes," Tony said. "Come on, we'll be late. Get in." Conroy nodded and moved as quickly as she could while wearing high heels and juggling a laptop and a Starbucks cup in her hands.

* * *

In conclusion, Iron Man is absolutely recommended for the Avengers Initiative and world prove essential in completing its goals. However, Tony Stark is not recommended at this time.

Those were the two most conflicting statements in the entire S.H.I.E.L.D. file on Anthony Edward Stark. How could someone be both approved and rejected at the same time? It was like someone who only reads things they've already read. It didn't make sense. However, those kinds of inconsistencies seemed to be abundant in almost all the files Steve had read so far. At least in Tony's files there weren't entire paragraphs blacked out by long, thin bars. The only section that seemed to be tampered with was one line in brackets that read "redacted at the request of Mr. Stark." As far as Steve could tell, that was the only thing that had been edited out, so it led him to wonder what was so bad that Tony would request S.H.I.E.L.D. to remove it from their files on him.

However, the things that concerned him the most were the outright contradictions contained within the files. The report written by an agent named Natasha Romanoff painted Tony as a self-obsessed narcissist who only fought for himself, but that description was in direct contrast to his actions as Iron Man. After all, it was unlikely that someone as self-centered as Tony supposedly was would want or even care enough to do things like fly halfway around the world to save some random village in Afghanistan or stop a psychopath from killing around six-thousand civilians gathered in an exposition center with weaponized drones and a hacked suit of armor. (Steve didn't fully understand what had happened there, but that wasn't the point.) The two images didn't match up in his head and he was having trouble figuring out which version was the real one.

So, sighing, Steve decided that he had enough catching up for one morning and set the files aside. He got up, stretched out a bit, and sat down on the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers over the cover of the compass for a quick second before reaching under his pillow to retrieve the scrap of paper Tony had given him before.

555-310-2187

As soon as he saw the number, Steve was confused. It was way too long and didn't have any letters in it. There was no way it could be valid. He had only used a phone a handful of times in his life, but he at least knew that much. It also didn't help that he hadn't seen a single phone since Tony left the other day. So, even if it was a valid number, he wouldn't be able to call Tony and let him know he was alright.

 _I'm sure he's fine,_ Steve thought. _He probably thinks I couldn't do something as **complicated** as making a phone call. He'll understand._

* * *

Being Buried Alive 

Going to Jail for Life

Sudden Onset of Mutism

Quadro-Paralysis

Kidnapping

Torture

Dehydration

Starvation

Heart Attack

Poisoning

These were only the first ten entries on Tony's list of horrible things that could happen to someone that would keep them from calling you. Normally Tony wouldn't be worried about something as silly as a phone call, but he just wanted to know that Steve was okay. He knew none of these options were even likely. He wasn't teasing Steve when he said that the super soldier probably didn't know how to work a phone. However, writing all of this down did ease his fears a little bit. Plus, it was serving as a good distraction from the thorough chewing out he was getting from the members of the board, so that served as a nice bonus.

Alright, so the board meeting wasn't going well. Ever since it started the board was blaming him for driving stocks down with the botched _Good Morning America_ interview and the robbery while he and Pepper tried to explain that both events were completely out of his control. However, when the ship is sinking the first person you obviously blame is the captain. Tony wasn't CEO anymore, but he still held controlling interest in the company. So, in the eyes of the board members, he was the one to blame. However, the only problem with that logic was that this wasn't at all a ship-sinking emergency. It only made sense when you considered that any dip in stock prices was the equivalent of the Hindenburg disaster in the eyes of the board members. So, Tony wasn't surprised.

Even though he was distracting himself from the meeting, he was still listening. Albeit, vaguely, but still listening. He was paying attention enough to know that Pepper had just restated the same point for the sixth time in the past half-hour and was growing frustrated. Tony knew he was going to have to jump into the conversation in a moment, but for right now he was just content to escape from all the stress for a minute and continue writing the list on the memo pad of his phone. It had taken a turn for the silly as he came up with increasingly ridiculous reasons why someone would be unable to pick up a phone.

Stabbed in the Eye by a Professional Fencer

Dramatic Irony

Toilet Electrocution

Death by Molasses

Falling Out of a Poorly-Installed Window

Segway Cliff Accident

Death by Orgasm

Crushed by a Taco Bell Sign

Struck by Lightning

Sucked Out of an Airplane

"…Can't sit here and tell me that this was an honest mistake. The interview, I can believe, but Stark has yet to explain how someone can get past his 'state-of-the-art' security systems and an entire staff of trained security guards without anyone noticing. Hell, they even managed to get access to our security codes…"

"Wait, what?" Tony looked up and scanned the room for the person who had just spoken. "What's this about security codes?"

"The chem labs were unlocked using one of our security codes," said the board member in question. His name was Hector Fair and he was an obese man with slicked-back white hair. "Didn't you know that?" The man's tone conveyed that he already knew the answer.

"This is the first I'm hearing of it," Tony said.

"Me too." Pepper was the one who said that, so Tony felt reassured that this wasn't something that was brought up earlier in the meeting that he just happened to miss when he wasn't paying attention. "How did you get that information, Mr. Fair?"

"I have my sources," Fair said.

 _Eavesdropping_ was Tony's initial thought. _Probably got his stick figure of a secretary to do it._

"Regardless of how Mr. Fair obtained the information," the man sitting across from Fair – Harold Schaffer – said. "This is a serious threat to the company. If the thief has the building's security codes, who knows what they could do next!"

"Precautions regarding the integrity of the building are currently underway," Pepper said. "All the codes are being changed and all systems are being upgraded to prevent something like this from happening again.

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place," Schaffer argued. "How can we trust that it won't happen again?"

"I have to agree with Mr. Schaffer," the man to the right of Schaffer – Marvin Weinstein – said. "After all, who knows who this mysterious thief was and where they got the access codes. For all we know, it could have been an employee."

"Or Stark's 'un-hackable' system isn't as impervious as he claims, and some Anonymous yahoo released all our security codes and passwords onto the internet." Tony could taste metal in his mouth from how hard he was biting down on his tongue. He probably would have been able to resist the urge to shoot back, if the man didn't have to add "it wouldn't surprise me." That little bit of salt in the wound was enough to arise a response from Tony. Luckily, he managed to keep his cool just enough to avoid going too far.

"The system is fine," Tony said. "Working flawlessly, in fact. The first thing I did yesterday after talking to the police was checking to make sure that no one had hacked into our systems. I personally double-checked every single system, file, and entry point for any sign we had been hacked and had JARVIS scan the whole system from top to bottom just to be safe. I didn't find anything; zip, zilch, nothing, no nada. I specifically designed my systems so that way if they were somehow hacked, then we'd have enough crumbs to lead us back to whoever stole the cookie jar. It's impossible for any hacker not to leave a trace through my systems. Even **I** wouldn't be able to do it. So, I feel confident in saying that we haven't been hacked. Besides, I think there would have been more than a few chemicals stolen from our lab if it was a data breach of that level. Don't you agree?"

"Yes," Schaffer said. "I agree. However, you don't honestly expect me to believe that hubris alone is enough to prevent the worst from happening. It didn't work out for _the Titanic_ , and it's certainly not going to work for the security of this company."

"Do you even know what you're talking about Schaffer?" Tony asked. "Because it just seemed like your lips were moving but no sound was coming out."

"What I'm saying, Mr. Stark, is that it's entirely possible that there was a data breach like the one you described, and you were unable to detect it." Tony's gaze became increasingly harder with every word that Schaffer spoke. "I mean, your whole system relies upon the idea that idea that no one can outsmart the great Anthony Stark…"

"Mr. Schaffer," Pepper tried to cut in, but Schaffer ignored her.

"…When it's been proven in the past that it can be done. Didn't some guy make his own version of your armor – technology you said yourself was twenty years away from being copied, let alone outmatched – and tried to kill you in Monaco a few months ago?" Tony clenched his fists under the table.

"I don't see how this is relevant to the conversation at hand." Pepper's attempt to get Schaffer to shut up was once again ignored.

"And wasn't Stane selling the weapons **you** designed to terrorist groups for years without you noticing?" Tony was a split second away from saying or doing something he'd regret when Pepper finally broke through.

"Schaffer, enough!" Pepper's voice reverberated off the walls. The board members turned their attention to her while Tony kept his gaze firmly on Schaffer. "None of this relevant to anything we are talking about. It's just a poorly veiled attempt to attack Mr. Stark. If you do not want to be ejected from this meeting immediately, I suggest you keep your opinion of Mr. Stark to yourself and keep all comments relevant to the topic at hand. Understood?" Tony shot the other man a challenging look.

 _Go ahead. Try it. I dare you._ Tony watched as Schaffer swallowed and sank back down into his chair.

"Yes, ma'am," was all he said.

"Good," Pepper said in a lighter tone. "Now, back to business."

By the time the meeting adjourned, Tony's list had grown to include one-hundred fifty entries. At this point, Steve failing to call him should have been the very last thing on his mind, but Tony couldn't stop feeling it eat away at him. The worry was unfounded, but it still existed nonetheless, and Tony didn't have time to allow it to consume. He had bigger fish to fry.

* * *

The rest of the meeting went about as well as one would expect. They argued the same points over and over, barely anything of significance was said, and eventually, they had to call it a day without having gotten anything done. So, an average Tuesday. However, Tony was able to glean a few small tidbits of information about the police investigation thanks to the big mouths of the board members. Not only was Fair keeping tabs on what the cops were doing, but two other board members – Lucille Hinson and Elisha Jameson – were as well. From Hinson, he learned that the police believed the robbery happened sometime between noon and four PM on Saturday, and from Jameson, he had learned that one of the locks indeed had been opened with a passcode, but a second lock had been smashed until the door came open. That gave him a timeframe and an idea of what to be looking for since he and Pepper hadn't been allowed to see the crime scene. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

To his left, Pepper was gathering all her things and getting herself organized to leave while to his right, Conroy was intently focused on her laptop, trying to get her own notes copied and saved for the next day. Tony sat with his head in his hands, desperately trying to remember what it felt like to be healthy. Unfortunately, he couldn't really remember that far back. Eventually, Conroy shut her laptop and let out a long, exhausted sigh.

"I know I shouldn't complain about my first day," she said. "But that was basically a witch-hunt on steroids. Seriously, I've seen nuclear deals made more peacefully than that."

"You better get used to it," Pepper said as she stood up and shouldered her bag. "It might not seem like it right now, but trust me, it can get much worse."

"Yeah," Tony said. "Maybe next time they'll remember to bring the pitchforks and torches."

"Don't forget about the stone press," Conroy remarked. "No witch hunt is complete without a good peine forte et dure."

"That's cruel and unusual punishment," Tony pointed out.

"But it seems they think you're deserving of it," Conroy said. "I mean, I know the robbery was a huge screw-up – and just referring to it as a 'screw-up' is an understatement in and of itself – but from the way the kept going at you, you'd think they were convinced that you poisoned the water supply, burned their crops, and set a plague unto their houses."

"I might as well have," Tony said. "I thought I had practically everything-proofed the building. Apparently, I left a blind spot somewhere."

"Regardless, all we can do now is damage control and taking preventative steps," Pepper said. "Looking for a single person to blame is just juvenile and a waste of time."

"Agreed," Conroy said. "But it seems that irrationality is an unavoidable curse in the world of upper-management – no offense."

"None took." Pepper walked over to get a closer look at Tony. "You feeling okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," Tony said, his voice hoarse. "Much better than yesterday."

"You sure?" Pepper had one eyebrow raised, clearly not buying it.

"I'm not dying," he assured. "I feel great. Haven't even coughed since yesterday."

"Alright," Pepper relented, though she still sounded concerned. Despite that, there was nothing she could do other than take his word for it. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"See you later," Tony reciprocated as Pepper left the room. At the same time, Conroy shut her laptop.

"Another thing I probably shouldn't ask on my first day," she said. "But I can go home now, right?" Tony nodded in the affirmative. Conroy then began to gather all her things and stuff them into her laptop case. "Good, because I really don't want to find out what happens in my neighborhood after dark." Tony didn't want to find out either, so he let the conversation die there. Conroy eventually got all her things together and headed out the door. "See you tomorrow," she called over her shoulder as she left.

Tony put his head down on the table. He just wanted to fall asleep right then and there. However, Tony knew that it wasn't a good idea to fall asleep at work. He'd done it before and it didn't work out too well. Plus, Pepper would probably drag him to a hospital if she found him passed out at the conference table the next morning.

Just as he resolved to get up and go home so he could finally get some sleep, the familiar opening notes of a certain AC/DC song started to emanate from his cell phone. Upon checking the caller ID, Tony smiled when he saw it was an unknown caller with a number longer than the value of pi. He was still grinning when he accepted the call.

* * *

It was only eight o'clock at night, but Steve was at a loss for what to do. He was wide awake and couldn't focus on reading the files anymore. He would go and do something else, but apparently, he was only allowed to be on this floor. The door to the stairs was locked and every time he tried to go down in the elevator, it just stayed in place with the doors wide open. He also hadn't seen a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent all day. He supposed they were trying to give him space to adjust, but Steve was finding it more frustrating than helpful.

So, for what felt like the eightieth time that day, Steve got up and started wandering the halls. He had been told that this floor acted as a pseudo-hotel for people connected with S.H.I.E.L.D. and its investigations. Currently, though, he had the entire floor to himself. It would have been nice, but Steve was starting to get a touch of cabin fever. He was desperate to at least **see** another person. So, when he spotted a young S.H.I.E.L.D. agent stepping off the elevator, he was mentally jumping for joy.

"Captain Rogers," the man said. "I was just coming to check up on you. Agent Wylie. I work with Dr. Fox." He held out his hand to shake. Steve took it but remained wary. Tony's warnings about patient rights and blood tests ringing clearly in his ears. "So, how are you feeling?" the agent asked. "Notice anything unusual?"

"No," Steve said. "I feel fine."

"You aren't experiencing any muscle weakness?" Wylie asked. "You haven't suddenly passed out and stopped breathing?"

"No," Steve said. "Can that happen?"

"It's a possible complication of severe hypothermia," Wylie explained. "I wouldn't worry about it too much." Steve nodded, but was still concerned. "But no other symptoms, right? No dizziness, lightheadedness, vertigo, cardiac arrest, confusion, none of that?"

"No." Although that list of symptoms was concerning, Steve did hone in on one of them. "Wait, confusion? What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing too concerning," Wylie said. "Just a general feeling of delirium; not being sure of where you are and what's happening around you.

 _So, how I've felt every second since I've woken up,_ Steve thought.

 _Well, not every second._ Steve shoved that thought directly into the deepest, darkest pit of his mind. That was the last thing he needed to think about right now. There were more important things, like convincing this S.H.I.E.L.D. agent that there's nothing medically wrong with him so that way they won't have the opportunity to come up with some excuse to draw his blood.

"No," Steve said. "Haven't been feeling sick at all." It was the truth. He wasn't feeling physically sick. Just… Confused, not only about the whole situation but his feelings, his sanity… Everything had changed in a split-second and Steve was having trouble processing it all. However, Wylie seemed to accept his answer and didn't press any further.

"Good to know," he said. "Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything I could get you?" Before Steve could stop himself, he replied.

"Actually, yes. Do you know where I can use a phone?" A look of confusion overtook the agent's face.

"Uh, yeah," he said. "There's a phone in the office next to the elevator. Why do you need it? Who do you want to call?"

"Tony Stark." Wylie looked up and raised an eyebrow.

"Tony Stark," he said. " **The** Tony Stark. Iron Man. That Tony Stark."

"Yeah. He gave me his phone number when I met him the other day and told me to call him." Steve was fingering the slip of paper in his pants pocket as he said that.

"Did he say why?" Wylie asked.

 _Because he's afraid you're going to drain all my blood to get at the serum._

"Not sure," Steve supplied instead. "He didn't say." Wylie just looked more concerned.

"Uh, listen," he said. "I don't know if you know this already, but Stark's kind of…" His mouth froze mid-sentence and stayed that way for a full thirty seconds before making a face that one would make upon being force-fed a slug. "You know what, it's not my place. Never mind. I'll unlock the office for you, so you can make your call."

Steve wondered briefly what that was about but decided to just brush it off for now. Instead, he followed Wylie to the office and listened as the other man explained how to make a call. Apparently, now you had to dial the number yourself instead of waiting for the operator to connect the call. Also, for some reason you had to dial the number nine first before dialing the rest of the number to get the call out of the building. Other than that, it didn't sound as complicated as he was expecting. He thanked the agent for his assistance and waited for the other man to step out of the room to sit down and make the call.

Dialing the number, Steve tried to swallow down his anxiety. Why was he doing this? Why was he so nervous? What was he going to say to Tony when he picked up the phone? All these questions and more were buzzing through Steve's mind at such a fast pace, he didn't even hear the phone ringing as the call connected and almost missed the sound of the phone clicking as Tony picked up on the other end.

"Hello," he heard the man on the other end of the line say. Steve could feel his chest clench. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

"Hello?" Steve was able to keep the unsure tone out of his voice. "Is this Tony Stark?" Steve's heart sank as it occurred to him that he had no idea what to say if this was someone who wasn't Tony. Thankfully, it didn't come to that.

"Speaking." Tony's voice sounded much more rough and tired than Steve remembered. However, he felt reassured by how his tone went up as soon as he heard Steve's voice. Almost as if he was smiling. "Is this Steve Rogers?"

"Yes." Steve could feel himself starting to smile as well. "I was just calling to let you know I'm alright."

"Good to hear," Tony said. "You remembered what I said the other day, right?"

"Yes," Steve said.

"Have they tried?"

"No."

"Good." Tony sounded genuinely relieved to hear that. "Sorry. When you didn't call, I thought they might have done something." Steve felt a pang of guilt was over him.

"No, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't have access to a phone until a few minutes ago."

"Don't worry," Tony said. "I understand. So, what's been going on since I saw you last."

"Not much," Steve admitted. "S.H.I.E.L.D. moved me into my own apartment. I have the entire floor to myself."

"That sounds nice," Tony said.

"It would be," Steve said. "If I was allowed to leave this floor."

"You're not allowed to leave?" Tony questioned.

"Or go outside," Steve said. "I mean, I get it. They want to give me space to adjust and since I'm supposed to be dead, it's probably not a good idea to go outside, but it's still driving me crazy."

"Well," Tony said. "That simply won't do."

"What are you suggesting?" Steve kept his voice neutral, but he had to admit he was liking where this was going.

"What do you think of a prison break?" Both anxiety and anticipation began to course through Steve's veins.

"Sounds risky," Steve said. "I don't think I'd be able to get off of this floor without being seen."

"I didn't mean an actual prison break," Tony said. "I don't even want to imagine what S.H.I.E.L.D. would do to me if I tried that." Steve could hear Tony audibly shudder. No, I was thinking more along the lines of convincing S.H.I.E.L.D. to let me take you out for a little while."

"Seriously," Steve said. "You think they'd let you?"

"No, not at all," Tony said. "But it's worth a shot, and if it doesn't work out we can figure out a way to Shashank you out of there."

"What?" Steve said.

"It's a movie," Tony sounded slightly apologetic. "It came out after you were frozen. It's about a guy escaping from prison."

"Oh." He guessed that made sense.

"So, what do you say?" Steve could feel his smile returning.

"Alright," he said. "Sounds like a… Plan."

* * *

 **Well, if this is actually getting uploaded, that means I'm still alive and no one came to murder me for the language I used in that last chapter. I'm sorry about that. I spend way too much time on Tumblr and I was afraid that the language police might come after me for using the r-word (and maybe the q-word. I'm still confused as to whether or not that's okay to say.)**

 **Anyways, if you like this chapter be sure to leave a comment or a review!**

 **Remember kids, stay off of Tumblr. It'll ruin your life.**

* * *

 **Originally published to FFN on 6/17/18**


	11. 1,000 Paper Cranes

**Happy first official day of Summer!**

* * *

 **Wednesday, August 11th, 2010**

"Sir, I believe the Tamiflu you're holding has expired." Tony looked down at the bottle he was holding and saw that JARVIS was right. Exp: 5/12/05

"It's fine," Tony said. "It's not like anything else I've tried is even touching this thing." He wasn't even exaggerating. Everything he tried wasn't touching and he had too much to do in too little time to even bother thinking about going to a doctor. Plus, he had a feeling that if he did go to a doctor, he'd end up hospitalized. Sure, he could leave against medical advice, but that'd take too much time and he didn't want to miss his flight to go see Steve later today. Even if he only saw the guy for a grand total of two minutes while Fury had him "politely escorted" from the building, the five-hour long flight and pushing serious health concerns to the side would be worth it. Should he be worried that he was completely fine with doing both those things for a guy he only talked to for about fifty minutes, but then again, he's done lot worse things for a lot less. There's video evidence of it.

"Sir, you're aware that most pharmaceutical medications become inert after the expiration date, meaning that it is going to be ineffective in treating your flu-like symptoms."

"Yes, I'm aware, JARVIS." Tony washed the pill down with a sip of orange juice. "Still, it's worth a shot."

"As were the apple cider vinegar and the grapefruit seed extract," JARVIS pointed out. "Are you sure you don't need to see a medical professional?"

"No," Tony said. "I'll be fine. I don't need to see any doctors. Unless one of their names happens to be McDreamy. Then I'm all for it."

"Duly noted, Sir," JARVIS responded.

Tony then took his drink and headed down to the lab. It was six AM and he had only three hours before his flight. He told Conroy to show up at eight o'clock, sharp, so he'd quickly verse her in how to politely tell anyone who called for him that he was unavailable and where she should say the caller should stick it if they ignored her and still demanded to speak to him. If whatever it was they were calling about was truly that important, he'd be hearing about it from Pepper on his personal cell long before anyone else at the company thought to call him on his business line. Also, S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed to have his personal cell number, so once again he'd be most likely called on that if some world-ending emergency took place. …Oh, he'd just see it on TV. Whatever came first.

That aside, that gave him two hours to look through four hours of video footage hoping to catch something from the break-in. He knew the police had probably already gone through it by now, but he still at least wanted it confirmed or denied whether it was an employee once and for all. That way he could just fire them, press charges and be done with it.

"Hey, J," Tony said as he rounded his desk. "Can you bring up the security camera footage from the chem lab. Cue it up to Saturday at noon."

"Right away, Sir." JARVIS then brought up the video feed on the holographic screen. Tony sat down in his chair and took a sip of his orange juice.

"Start playing at twice the speed," Tony said. "Don't have a lot of time."

"Yes, sir." The video started playing but no change happened on screen. If it wasn't for the time stamp in the corner changing every thirty seconds, Tony would think that he was just looking at a still image of the chem lab at an awkward angle. Sighing, Tony forced himself to concentrate on the screen.

Easier said than done. There was nothing happening. Even when Tony increased the video speed hoping to get a glimpse of something, nothing happened. Watching paint dry was more entertaining. He was beginning to think that the video file had somehow been tampered with to cover up the robbery. Then, something he didn't expect happened.

One second, he was staring at the same still image of the chem lab, the next, the image changed drastically to show a chair turned on its side, a smashed black box on the floor, and the reinforced door to the storage locker wide open. Tony almost jumped out of his seat, it changed so quickly. It was like one of those screamer videos on YouTube, only with no sound.

"What the hell?" he muttered to himself. "JARVIS, rewind the video back three minutes and play at normal speed." JARVIS complied, but it still wasn't back far enough. "Rewind it three more minutes." This time, Tony was faced with the same still image he had been staring at before, but after a few seconds, it changed to the post-robbery scene. "Pause." Tony leaned over his desk and studied every pixel on the screen. "Scan the video. Any sign it's been tampered with?"

"No signs the video has been edited in any way," JARVIS reported a few seconds later. "It appears to be authentic, Sir."

"That's not possible," Tony said. "Rewind the video back two minutes and play it again."

Once again, JARVIS rewound the video and once again Tony watched as the screen changed from one still image to another with little to no explanation as to why or how. He narrowed his eyes and rewound the video again. There was something missing; something he wasn't seeing. He just needed to keep watching the video until he found it.

* * *

It was somber, eerily normal Wednesday morning for Nina Alaska. She was trying to enjoy her usual morning cup of coffee when she heard a knock at the door. Putting her cup down, she walked over to the entryway and looked through the front door's peephole. She was shocked to see her girlfriend standing there, looking bed-ragged and worse for wear, but otherwise unharmed.

"Holy shit!" Nina made quick work of the lock and had the door open within seconds. She threw her arms around Oswin's neck and pressed kisses to the side of her face. Oswin laughed at first, but her smile was quickly wiped away by Nina's sobs.

"Oh my god," she cried. "Oh my god, I thought you were dead!"

"What?" Oswin quickly pulled out of Nina's embrace but moved to cradle her face in her hands. "What do you mean? Why would you think that?"

"This woman told me there was an explosion at your house! She said you were dead!" Nina began sobbing so hard, Oswin didn't think she could breathe. She moved her hands to Nina's shoulders and spoke in a gentle tone.

"Hey," she said. "It's okay. I'm okay. Why don't we go inside, and I'll fix you a nice cuppa tea? That sound good?" Nina nodded. "Alright, come on. Let's go inside."

Nina allowed Oswin to gently push her by the shoulders back into the house. Together, they navigated their way into the living room and stopped in front of the small, tan loveseat. Oswin motioned for Nina to sit down and she did as she was told.

"I'll be right back," Oswin said with a pat on the shoulder before walking the short distance down the hall to go back into the kitchen. While she waited for her girlfriend to return, Nina sobbed endlessly into he hands, trying to wrap her head around this whole situation. First Oswin goes missing for days, then some Homeland Security agent shows up saying she's dead and asking all these questions, and then Oswin appears at her door acting like nothing was wrong. Something wasn't right here, and it was scaring Nina to death.

A few minutes later, Oswin came in balancing a tea kettle and two mugs on a tray, along with what appeared to be two foil-wrapped packets of Pop Tarts. Nina tried to give a grateful smile, but her distress dampened it to the point where it was as if she wasn't smiling at all.

"Here you go," Oswin said. "You liked Earl Grey the last time I made it, right?" Nina nodded as Oswin began filling the mugs. "Good. Just making sure I remembered right. Do you want anything else? I grabbed some Pop Tarts, but I wasn't sure if that was what you wanted." Nina shook her head as if to say "no, I'm good" and took a mug and a packet of Pop Tarts from the tray. Oswin sat down next to her and did the same.

It was silent for a while, something unusual for both girls. Nina could barely taste the tea or the breakfast pastry as she swallowed bite and sip after bite and sip. Eventually, Oswin's voice cut like a knife through the tension.

"Are you okay now?" she asked. "Do you want to talk about it?" Nina nodded in the affirmative and Oswin took a deep breath. "Alright, lay it on me."

"I thought you were dead!" It came out louder than Nina intended, but she didn't care. "Your house exploded! They told me you were dead! I can't believe it! I thought you were dead! Oh my God! I can't believe it! Oh my God!" Nina had her arms around Oswin again at this point. Oswin gently ran her fingers through her hair.

"It's alright," she assured. "I know the house exploded. I saw it and I got out in time. I'm alright. Nothing happened. I'm fine."

"But she said you were dead," Nina cried. "That Homeland Security lady said you were dead."

"Well, she was wrong," Oswin assured. "She was wrong. I'm fine."

"Your house exploded," Nina whimpered. "There was nothing left! I saw…"

"Nina, listen to me." Oswin pulled back and once again cradled her girlfriend's face in her hands. "I'm safe. Whatever that Homeland Security lady told you was wrong. I'm alive, and I promise I'm not going to leave your side, okay?" Nina nodded, but still had questions despite the assurances.

"How did your house explode?" she asked. "Why did the police think you were in it?" Oswin let out an exasperated sigh.

"It's a long story," she said.

"I have the time," Nina said. "Explain it to me."

* * *

 _It's like one of those magic-eye paintings_ , Tony thought. _The longer you stare at it, the clearer the image becomes._

Tony had been staring at the video footage for almost two full hours. He kept meaning to get into the shower, but he was so engrossed in figuring out the mystery of the video that he kept putting it off. Every time he rewound the video and played it back again, the still images would switch one second sooner. Tony was wracking his brain for some sort of an explanation for this but came up with nothing. He hoped it didn't just turn out that it was a headache and the flu making him see things. Otherwise, that meant he had just wasted two hours chasing after a red herring. That would just make him feel stupid.

"Sir, Miss Conroy is at the front door," JARVIS said.

"Let her in," Tony said as he hit the play button for the millionth time. He wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he saw the chair move slightly for a millisecond there.

Tony stayed like that for a few minutes before the sound of knocking on glass broke him out of his trance. He looked up to see Conroy standing at the door to the lab, waving and mouthing the words "hi, can you let me in?" Tony got up and unlocked the door for her.

"Thanks," Conroy said as she stepped in the room. "I know I'm early but-" She stopped mid-sentence as she took in Tony's appearance. "No offense, but why do you look like an extra from _Night of the Living Dead_?" Tony winced a little bit. Just saying "no offense" didn't automatically make a comment non-offensive. Nevertheless, Tony graciously decided to let it go, mostly because he felt too horrible to think of a good comeback.

"Haven't gotten in the shower yet," he explained. "Been busy with something." Conroy raised an eyebrow.

"That's a little bit more than 'haven't managed to get in the shower yet,'" she said. "That's more like David Kirby on his deathbed. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to see someone?"

"I'm fine," Tony assured while wincing slightly at the dark reference. "I have a little bit of a cold, but I'll live. Just need to take a shower before I have to catch my flight."

"Flight?" Conroy questioned. "You have a flight? When? I didn't see that on the schedule."

"Kind of impromptu," Tony said. "It leaves in a couple of hours, so I need to run everything down with you quickly and get ready."

"Alright," she said. "Lay it on me."

"I am going to be gone the whole day," he said. "I was originally planning on working from home all day, so no one will probably notice that I'm not at work. I want you to go to the office and do everything you're supposed to do from your desk. If anyone does come asking for me, just tell them I'm unavailable. Unless it's Pepper. If she asks for me, tell her to call me."

"Okay," she said. "What do I do if there's an emergency?"

"Call me," he said.

"Okay," she said. "What should I do if it's not an emergency but still something really important?"

"What do you mean?" Tony narrowed his eyes at her.

"Like, if Castro dies," Conroy said. "What do I do then?" Tony rolled his eyes and walked past her up the stairs.

"If Castro dies, break out the champagne," he said. "Celebrate without me. I don't have time for 'what ifs.'"

"I can't drink champagne," he heard her shout up the stairs. Tony chose not to comment as he went up two flights of stairs, through his bedroom and into the en-suite bathroom. He was left feeling out of breath and dizzy by the time he got into the shower. It was so bad that he had to sit down and catch his breath.

Tony tilted his head back and let the cold-water wash over him. He usually took hot showers, but he didn't want to risk the steam making him dizzy to the point where he threw up, or worse. This was nice, though. The water felt soothing on his overly hot skin. Eventually, he felt good enough to get up off the ground and proceed with his shower like normal.

Well, maybe not entirely normal. He did all the stuff he normally did but was generally running on auto-pilot. He was too distracted by his thoughts; about Steve, the robbery, work, the suit, back to Steve again… Thoughts that made him glad he decided to take a cold shower… Just random stuff. By the time he got out of the shower, he couldn't even remember taking one in the first place.

Once he got dressed, he went downstairs to find Conroy standing at the landing, waiting for him with a glass of water in one hand and something enclosed in her other fist. He raised his eyebrows as he reached the bottom of the stairs and she grabbed one of his empty hands and deposited three pills into them.

"Tessalon and Mucinex," she said. "Both over-the-counter cough suppressants. Both very powerful and both produce results. If you take these, you'll feel better in no time." She then handed him the glass of water. He had no choice but to take it, otherwise, they'd have to waste time cleaning broken glass off the floor.

"Thanks," he said. "But for the record, I don't like to be handed things. Why are you doing this, anyway."

"Noted," Conroy said dutifully. "Also, like I said before, you look like literal death. I'm not joking. You seriously look like you're going to keel over and die right here, right now."

"That makes me feel wonderful about myself." Conroy rolled her eyes.

"Just take the damn pills," she said. "I promise they work. It's what I usually use to get rid of colds since I can't take cough syrup anymore. You'll be feeling **and** looking better within the hour, and if you don't I know of about fifty uncommon remedies you can try." Tony checked to pills to make sure they were what she said they were. Feeling satisfied, he popped the caplets into his mouth.

"This better work," he said before taking a sip of water. It was nice and cold and felt good on his throat. "I've tried literally everything already."

"Have you tried folding a thousand paper cranes?" she asked.

"No?" He wasn't entirely sure what she was talking about.

"Then you haven't tried everything," she said. "Just trust me, those pills **will** work."

"Whatever you say." Tony returned the glass to the kitchen and then headed back towards the front door. Conroy followed him.

"So the game plan is just for me to go to Stark Industries and work from there?" she asked.

"Yep," Tony confirmed with a popping "p."

"Then what was the point in asking me to meet you here?" she asked. "Where are you going, anyway."

"Something came up that's none of your business," was the best Tony could come up with. He really hoped this medication worked. He missed having the ability to think.

"Okay," Conroy said. "Seeing as you're using an actual airplane to get wherever you're going and not your fancy-smancy super suit, I'm going to assume that this 'something' has a name. You going to clue me in or do you want me to guess?"

"Nope," Tony said. "Just do as I said. I'll be back tomorrow." At this point, they were walking down the driveway to Tony's car. Happy was already in the driver's seat and stood by, ready for Tony to get in the car so they could leave.

"Alright," Conroy said. "Can I just ask for one thing?"

"What?" It came off a little testier than he'd like, but it didn't deter Conroy from asking anyway.

"Can I have cab fare back to Hawthorne?" she asked. "You can take it off my paycheck if you want, I'm just not walking the entire length of that mountain again."

Tony couldn't argue with that. He got a hundred from his wallet and gave it to her. Conroy expressed her eternal gratitude before running off to call the cab company. Tony got into the back of the car and chatted with happy as it pulled off into the street.

On the way to the airport, Tony thought about his night with Steve and figured out a plan for it. The excitement began to bubble inside of him and a smile appeared on his face.

 _Oh yeah, this is going to be good. I just hope Steve likes it._

* * *

 **Hope everyone's enjoying the longest day of the year. Personally, I'm more excited about tomorrow. _Pray for the Wicked_ and _the Sims 4 Seasons_ both come out tomorrow and I'm going to be babysitting my six-month-old cousin who is the definition of adorable, so I can't wait! Also, there's something you probably can't wait for that's going to happen tomorrow... Ooo, you better get excited!**

 **Anyways, be sure to favorite, follow, review, comment, kudos... Whatever the kids are doing nowadays. I'm old.**

 **Remember kids, as long as 22.3 years have passed, it's okay to joke about any tragedy.**

* * *

 **Originally uploaded to FFN on 6/21/18.**


	12. AKA Date Night

**So, yeah, this chapter is based on a Captain America comic I read months ago (I believe it was _Captain America: Man Out of Time_ ) but I didn't re-read it before writing this chapter because I knew I'd be tempted to copy it word-for-word. I just took what I remembered about the comic and put my own spin on it. So credit for the original idea goes to whoever wrote the original comic (Wikipedia is NOT helping me on this) and I hope you all enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

 **Wednesday, August 11th, 2010**

Steve Rogers is not oblivious. In fact, he's usually good at figuring out people's character and intentions; who to trust and who not to trust, things like that. However, if you flashed a bright red neon sign in front of his window that read – in capital letters no less – "THIS IS A DATE" and bought every billboard in the City of New York and changed them to read – in capital letters, once again – "STEVE ROGERS, TONY STARK IS TAKING YOU OUT ON A DATE TONIGHT" Steve still probably wouldn't have gotten it.

Who could blame him, though? He grew up in a time where homosexuals were sterilized, lobotomized, and euthanized and, "bisexuality" wasn't even a word in the dictionary yet. For a guy to openly date another guy back then was unheard of. Most relationships that deviated from the sexual norm were carried out in secret; behind closed doors. Gay men would buy prostitutes for the night, then go back to their wife and kids like nothing happened and go back to their picture-perfect lives. That was the reality of Steve's world. Not to mention that he thought he was the only one in the world who felt things for both sexes. So, to think that a man would openly take him out on a date, in front of the eyes of the judgmental public was ridiculous in Steve's mind, especially someone who had dated as many women as Tony. (Oh, yes. The S.H.I.E.L.D. file did include details on every public relationship Tony had. In fact, oddly enough this is where the lines of redacted text were in his file.)

So, in Steve's mind, this was just a friend (He only met Tony once, should he consider him a friend?) taking another friend on a nice night out. Nothing else. Even if he did feel **slightly** attracted to Tony, there was no chance there was anything more behind this night. None. Just two friends going off to spend a night on the town. Completely innocent and normal.

Ah, isn't living in denial great?

So, while Steve wallowed in denial, he didn't really have time to think about just how they were going to pull this off. After all, Steve couldn't leave the building. He found out after he got off the phone with Tony that he **could** leave the floor. There was just a problem with the elevator's control panel where you had to hold down the "close doors" button while pressing the button for the floor you wanted to go to. (They were going to fix it, but eventually, everyone got used to the small annoyance to the point where they didn't even notice it anymore and since the maintenance guys weren't under pressure to fix it, they let it slide by the wayside.) Apparently, this had been explained to him before, but he hadn't been paying attention. At the time, he was more concerned with switching between thoughts of how handsome Tony was and his general alarm at being attracted to someone else. Being able to escape in the event of a fire wasn't the first thing on his mind.

Even though he was given more space to roam around, Steve still couldn't wait to go out with Tony. He felt like a caged animal and he was constantly on guard for any S.H.I.E.L.D. agents with ill-intentions. Just getting to leave the building for five minutes would make the night unbelievably amazing. Not that it needed to be amazing, because this wasn't a date.

 _Why am I so convinced this is a date?_ Steve thought to himself. He was quickly supplied with an answer of _because I want it to be._ Which was followed up by _I'm in love with Peggy._

 _Sixty-five years._ Steve winced at that thought. He still couldn't wrap his mind around that. He had just kissed Peggy five days ago and yet now she was an old woman who had moved on with her life at this point. She founded S.H.I.E.L.D., she married, she had kids… She had moved on, why couldn't he?

 _Five days._ Steve couldn't argue with that point. Even if it had been sixty-five years for her, it had only been a few days for him and you can't get over someone in a few days, especially someone like Peggy. That was his biggest struggle in dealing with his attraction to Tony. It wasn't his confusion about his sexuality or the concern for his own sanity. It was the overwhelming feeling that he was betraying Peggy. He still loved her; cared about her and every time he thought about Tony, it felt like he was doing something wrong by her.

Steve sighed. He needed to push all of that aside. Tonight, he was going out with a friend and they were going to have fun. He should just focus on that for right now.

Looking through his closet of S.H.I.E.L.D.-provided clothing, Steve picked out the nicest outfit he could find, which ended up being a white button-up shirt and black pants. The pants fit okay enough to where he felt like it wouldn't be noticeable that he wasn't wearing a belt, but the lack of a tie made the outfit feel a little too casual for him. He had no idea what Tony had planned, so he didn't want to be underdressed. Then again, he had no idea how much the style had changed, so maybe it was safe to go without the tie. Was he overthinking this? Probably. Was this still not a date? Definitely.

Tony said he'd be coming around six. That left Steve with a lot of time to kill. Agent Wylie came to check up on him a couple of times but didn't stick around long. One of the times he asked Steve what he and Tony were talking about the night before. Steve knew the agent had been listening in on that conversation, so he had to wonder whether he was asking because he wanted to hear whatever was said up front, or because S.H.I.E.L.D. knew Tony was coming and wanted details just to be prepared. Since Steve didn't know the later for a fact or whether they would be cool with it if they did (probably no to both) he just kept his answers vague, much to Wylie's clear displeasure.

Other than that, everything was boring and uneventful. He walked around the building a few times and he drew a few rough sketches using a pencil he found on the ground and paper that was just randomly in the middle of some empty office space. (He made a mental note to ask what that was later.) He didn't draw anything, just some random shapes, and objects as a warm-up exercise. It wasn't much, but it passed the time.

Despite his anticipation for seeing Tony throughout the whole day, a big ball of anxiety burst in his stomach when the clock struck the magic hour of six. He didn't know the reason for it, but the emotion spread throughout his entire body at an exponential rate. He had to keep reminding himself that this wasn't a date and he was foolish to think otherwise until Agent Wylie showed up at his door.

"Commander Hill sent me to get you," he said when Steve opened the door. "Stark is here, and he's not taking no for an answer until he at least sees you." Steve nodded and followed Wylie out the door and into the elevator.

The anxiety hadn't ceased spreading. In fact, it had only gotten worse. His only worry was now that he was going to get Tony into trouble. While he may have joked about it on the phone, it was a real possibility that S.H.I.E.L.D. could have Tony thrown from the building the second he asked to take Steve out into the public. It was clear they wanted him to adjust slowly, but personally, Steve didn't want to take things slowly. He wanted his freedom. He wanted to decide for himself what he could handle and couldn't handle. He wanted to see what the world had become in his sixty-five-year absence, and right now Tony was the only one offering that to him. It might be selfish, but he wanted to take that opportunity, even if it ended up getting both him and Tony in trouble. In his mind, it would be a hundred-percent worth it.

The anxiety started to retreat, though, once he got off the elevator and Wylie led him to a room off to the side of the lobby where they found an exasperated Hill and a smug-looking Tony. In fact, it started disappearing as soon as his eyes landed on Tony. He tried not to smile as he took in the other man's appearance. He looked a little paler than when he saw him last, but nothing too alarming. The three-piece suit looked a little warm for August, but it was undeniable how good he looked in it. Sexy, even. Steve shook his head a little bit to get rid of the thought as Tony held out his hand for him to shake.

"Good to see you again, Steve," Tony said as Steve took his hand.

"You too, Mr. Stark." Tony's hand was very rough and calloused, Steve noticed as the handshake came to an end. Despite that, it felt good to hold Tony's hand in his and this was **_still not a date!_**

"Call me Tony, Steve." Tony had a rather sweet-looking smile on his face. It distracted Steve so much that the most he was able to get out were a small "alright." Luckily, Hill's abruptly interjecting voice brought him back to reality.

"I still don't think this is a good idea," she said.

"Relax," Tony said. "I promise you, Steve will be fine. I won't take him anywhere crowded or that would upset him and if you don't trust me, you can track him, right?"

"Yes," Hill confirmed with a nod. "Alright, Rogers, come over here and give me your wrist." Steve did she said and stepped closer to her while holding out his right wrist. Hill slid the thin, silver bracelet around it and the device beeped as she clicked it shut. "There is a tracking device in this bracelet. It can only be opened by a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, so don't bother trying to take it off. With this, we will be able to find you anywhere on the planet. If you're in danger, press the button on the side and we'll be right with you." Steve stared skeptically at the device on his wrist.

"Thank you," he said as if he had a choice about wearing it in the first place. He ran a finger over the smooth surface of the bracelet. It wasn't metal, but whatever material it was made from didn't seem easily breakable either. As he continued to stare at the thin, restrictive band on his wrist, Tony put a hand on his shoulder. Steve tried not to overreact to the touch.

 _It means nothing._ Steve had a feeling he was going to be saying that to himself a lot tonight.

"If that's all, Commander Hill," Tony said. "I think Steve and I will be off now."

"No, that's not all!" Tony ignored her, turned, and started walking out the door. Steve followed closely behind him. "We want Captain Rogers back by ten, and…"

"I'll keep that in mind," Tony called over his shoulder as he and Steve left the second-in-command of S.H.I.E.L.D. standing angrily in the dust. Once they were out of the building, Tony turned to Steve and smiled.

"How have you been, Cap?" he asked.

"Good," Steve said. "Well, better now that I can actually breathe fresh air."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call the air fresh," Tony said. "But I guess you can't be too picky when you haven't been outside in… Well, it's good to be outside, right?"

Steve finally took his eyes away from Tony and gazed at all the sights around him. Yes, things were very different from what he remembered. The buildings were bigger, the air was murkier, and he was right in assuming the style hand changed. Men were wearing t-shirts and jeans, and women had on tank-tops and shorts so short they were probably better classified as underwear. In comparison, he and Tony looked extremely overdressed, but that wasn't the point, though.

In other ways, it was still the same New York he had known all his life. The streets bustled with an endless number of cars, buses, and cabs. People filled the sidewalks, all going about their daily business. That much at least hadn't changed. The sights might have changed, but the smells, the sounds, the atmosphere… The city still had its character and it served as a comfort to Steve. New York was still New York. Time hadn't changed that and probably nothing ever could.

"It looks different," Steve finally said. "But it's still the same. Steve turned to Tony and saw that his lips were still slightly quirked up.

"It's the city that never sleeps," Tony pointed out. "It's always changing."

"But that's still the same, right?" Tony's smile broadened as he stepped towards Steve.

"Good point," he said. "So, you ready to see more of it?"

"How much more of it?" Tony smirked.

"How about all of it?"

* * *

Although they couldn't fly directly over New York City, they still got an amazing view of it through the airplane's windows from a distance. It was breath-taking. The sky was slowly getting darker, changing to a deep, dark blue color. The clouds were as soft fuchsia-pink, and the lights twinkled gold and reflected beautifully off the water. It was picture-perfect, and it made Steve wish he had something to draw the scene with. As soon as the city was out of view, though, Steve turned his attention back to Tony who was smiling.

"So, what do you think?" he asked.

"That was incredible," Steve said. "I don't think I've ever seen the city like that."

"I know what you mean," Tony said. "It looks different this far out and high up."

"And lit up," Steve added. "I really wish I had something to draw this with." Tony raised his eyebrows.

"You serious?" he asked. "You draw?"

"Yeah." Steve looked down. A small, barely noticeable chip on the edge of the table suddenly became very interesting. "I have since I was a little kid."

"That's something you don't see in the history books," Tony remarked. "How did you start?"

"It was mostly something to do," Steve said. "I couldn't go outside as much as I should have or wanted to. My mom had to work to support us. My friend, Bucky – my best friend – he came over to see me as much as he could, but a lot of times I was by myself. Drawing was a good, fun way to pass the time and I ended up getting pretty good at it. At least, according to Bucky and Peggy. I don't really think I'm **that** good…"

"Really?" Tony said. "Well, I think I'll have to decide that for myself."

"I would draw you something right here, right now," Steve said. "But I'd need a pencil and paper first." Tony bit his lip as he scanned the area of the cabin.

"I think we have some around here somewhere…" he said. "JARVIS, do we have any papers and pencils anywhere around here?"

"In the top drawer of the cabinet behind you, sir." The first thing Tony did once Steve got on the plane was to introduce JARVIS to him. He had explained that the disembodied voice was an AI (artificial intelligence) that he created himself. You could ask JARVIS almost anything and the AI would respond within a few seconds. The concept both amazed and terrified Steve at the same time; amazed because he couldn't believe that Tony had created something so complex and sophisticated as a computer that could think on its own, terrifying because he couldn't believe that technology had advanced to a point where people could create intelligent life out of thin air. He could only imagine what horrible things someone could do with that. Luckily, Tony had probably anticipated a reaction like that and decided to introduce JARVIS to him ASAP before the AI scared him half to death. Steve couldn't be more thankful for that at least.

Tony had gotten up and retrieved a yellow legal pad and a couple of number two pencils. He gave Steve an apologetic shrug as he set the items down on the table.

"Sorry," he said. "This is all we've got."

"That's okay," Steve said. "I can work with this." He pulled the pad close to him and flipped it around, so it was horizontal. Somewhat hesitantly, Steve brought one of the pencils down to make his first mark on the page. He noticed right away that the pencil he was using felt harder and smoother than he was used to. However, he quickly adjusted and began drawing the scene that he had just seen moments before through the plane window. After a few moments of silence, Tony spoke up again.

"Do you mind if I put some music on?" Tony asked.

"Music?" Steve questioned.

"Yeah," Tony said. "It's not going to break your concentration or anything, right? It's not a long flight, but it might be nice to have a little background noise."

"Music is fine," Steve said. "It won't bother me."

"Alright, good," Tony said. "JARVIS put on my random mix and keep the volume low. I think both of us would appreciate that."

The music that could be heard coming out of the plane's speakers. Thankfully, it wasn't one of the louder songs on Tony's playlist, but it was still very different from what Steve was used to hearing. It seemed to be entirely composed of guitars and drums and sort of an overall unusual sound to it. Eventually, Steve had to ask.

"What is this?"

"Uh, Radiohead, I think?" Tony said. "Why? You don't like it?"

"No," Steve said. "I think I like it? It's just… Very different. A lot of things are. Something I just have to get used to."

"You sure?" Tony said. "Because I can turn it off if you want."

"No, keep it on," Steve said. "Maybe in a song or two it'll grow on me."

"Alright," Tony said. "Just so you know, the plane lands in half an hour."

"Half an hour?" Steve questioned. "Where are we going?"

"I can't tell you." Tony smiled and lifted his glass to his lips. "It'll ruin the surprise," he said before taking a sip.

* * *

Steve had to admit, he was decently surprised when the plane touched down in Washington D.C. He wasn't sure what Tony's plan was, but he could already say the man went above and beyond all expectations for a date – let alone a platonic outing between friends.

They went straight from the airport to a large complex of buildings east of the Washington Monument. Steve had heard of the Smithsonian institution before but had never seen it for himself. (Mostly because, sadly, the most Steve ever got to see of this country during his days of traveling around selling war bonds were the backstage areas of several theaters and the insides of numerous hotel rooms.) When he and Tony got out of the car, he noticed that the place was a bit more deserted than it probably should be.

"Are we allowed to be here right now?" he asked Tony. "It doesn't look like anyone's here."

"Oh yeah," Tony said. "I made a few calls, got them to stay open a little late for us. It's closed to the public right now, though, so there's no chance of getting spotted and recognized by a huge crowd."

"Mr. Stark," a voice called out as the two men approached the door. A museum employee – a tall woman with short, curly, black hair – stood there waiting for them. Tony raised his hand in greeting and picked up the pace. Steve followed him closely. When they caught up to the front door, Tony walked up to the woman and shook her hand. "It's wonderful to meet you, Mr. Stark."

"Likewise, Miss…"

"Whittaker," the woman supplied. "Vivienne Whittaker. Please, call me Viv." There was a flirtatious undertone to the way she smiled.

"Miss Whittaker." The woman's face immediately fell, but she was able to maintain a polite smile. "Thank you for letting us in after hours."

"Well, thank you for your kind patronage," Viv said. "It's not every day we receive such a generous donation."

"Well, my guest and I surely appreciate it." Viv then turned her gaze on Steve and suddenly the flirty smile was back.

"Oh, yes," she said. "It's lovely to meet you, too, sir, and your name is?"

"Steve." He stopped himself before he added "Rogers."

"Really," she said. "Is that what your girlfriend calls you?"

"Yes." The girl's face fell again. However, she put her disappointment aside and with a pleasant smile, turned to lead them through the doors.

"We don't normally do private tours this late at night," Viv said. "So, all of our eateries and the lowest level is closed. Our apologies for the inconvenience."

"No problem," Tony said. "We just wanted to have a look around. We don't mind."

"Well, excellent then," Viv said. "Then we can just jump right into the tour. Is there anything specific you wanted to see?"

While Tony was talking to the girl, Steve looked around the huge open space they were in. It felt like the future with it's minimalistic style and grey and white color scheme. Directly across from where they were standing there was a sculpture that appeared to depict a waving flag made from many small squares of reflective material.

"Steve." Tony's voice called him back to reality. He turned to see Tony standing there with an indescribable look on his face. It made Steve's heart skip a beat and a fluttering feeling to emerge in his stomach. "Is there anything you want to see first?"

 _This is not a date!_ Steve felt like he had screamed that in his mind for the millionth time that night. He tried to compose himself, but his answer still came out more nervous than it probably should have.

"I, uh, don't really know what's here," he said. "So, wherever you guys want to start…"

"Well, why don't we start on the first floor and work our way up?" Viv suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Tony said. Steve nodded in agreement.

"Alright," Viv said as she started down the staircase that led to the first floor. "If you'll just follow me, we'll start our tour with the first-floor east wing."

* * *

The tour was a little rushed given the fact that they were only allowed to be there so long, but Steve still enjoyed it, nonetheless. Some of the museum's displays showcased events Steve was already aware of, but there were numerous displays that covered the sixty-five years he missed. Everything from the end of World War II and beyond was covered. Well, probably not **everything** , but it was nice to get a sort of broad-scope view of what had happened in the time he was gone and physically seeing some of it would probably help his understanding when he went do dig deeper into some of these topics later.

They were walking through the last exhibit of the night – an exhibition of artifacts from every war America had fought in. For some reason, Tony wanted to do this exhibit last. That was alright with Steve. To be honest, he was glad to have saved this until the end. He was told by S.H.I.E.L.D. that the Allies won the war. They didn't elaborate on how they won it. Some of the atrocities committed in the name of victory shocked Steve to his core. If it wasn't for Tony's hand coming gently to rest on his shoulder, it probably would have been much more difficult to keep himself grounded.

"Hey." Tony leaned in close and spoke in a low tone so that way the tour guide wouldn't overhear. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" Tony said. "You didn't look too hot for a second there."

"I'm fine," Steve assured once again. "I was expecting something bad anyways."

 _Although, nothing as bad as the instant deaths of at least 130,000 people._

"What about you?" Steve asked. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." Tony looked perplexed by the question. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just look a little pale," Steve said. "And warm…"

"…And this brings us to our last exhibit," Viv's voice said, capturing both men's attentions before Tony could respond. "Celebrating one of America's greatest heroes!"

She then led them to a medium-sized room whose lights had already been turned off for the night. As soon as they arrived at the threshold, Tony pulled Viv to the side and handed her a bill of unknown worth. Steve caught something along the lines of "give us a minute," but he let the conversation go over his head as he stepped further into the room. The lights came on automatically to reveal photographs and memorabilia all relating to Captain America.

The whole thing was surreal. No one ever expects to see themselves in a museum, and they certainly don't expect their exhibit to be dedicated "in memoriam." There were dozens of items locked in glass cases and numerous framed photographs lining the walls. Each member of the Howling Commandos had their picture on the wall with a small biography on a golden plaque underneath it. Steve skimmed through all of them, but his eyes lingered on Bucky's for just a moment too long.

Sgt. James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes (1917-1945)

Sgt. Barnes was born in Brooklyn, New York and was friends with Captain Rogers from a young age. A loyal friend and worthy ally, Barnes was killed in action in early 1945.

That stung. In fact, a part of Steve didn't want to believe it even though he had witnessed Bucky's death first-hand. He didn't really have much time to morn. He had tried going to that pub to get drunk (which didn't work thanks to the serum) but after Peggy found him there, it was pretty much go, go, go non-stop until he got frozen in the ice. Now, he had more deaths to grieve for than just Bucky's; more than any one man should ever have to grieve for.

When Steve forced himself to walk away from that display, his attention was grabbed by another photograph hanging on the opposite wall – a black and white candid shot of him, Bucky, Peggy, and Howard all gathered around a map. They were so invested in what they were studying that none of them had noticed that their picture was being taken. Steve's eyes were drawn to Peggy, who was pointing at something on the map and looked like she was mid-way through explaining something. Tears began to cloud Steve's vision. It just hit him right then and there that he would never see the Peggy he remembered and loved ever again. He didn't let himself break down into full-blown crying, though, and he wouldn't admit that the fact that Tony had placed his hand on his shoulder again might have been a huge help to that.

"You're not okay." It was clearly a statement, not a question. Steve shook his head.

"No," he said. "No, I am not." For some reason, he let out a pathetic little laugh following that statement.

"Look," Tony said. "I didn't mean to upset you, but I knew this would be hard for you, especially seeing all of this." Tony gestured around the room. Steve nodded but didn't say anything. Tony inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. "The main reason why I did this was that I knew S.H.I.E.L.D. was going to give you the sunshine and rainbows version of the past seven decades. It's a nice fable, but it's not the reality you need to hear. There are things in our past that we'd rather forget and while we've come a long way, we've still got a long way to go. I know you've lost a lot and me saying this doesn't make any of it better, but… You've got to keep moving forward. I don't mean forget the past or get over it or anything like that, but you're here now and there's no changing that. You're not alone, though. I'll help you with anything you need. I just want to move forward with you. Is that alright?"

The entire time Tony was speaking, his voice got hoarser and hoarser. By the end of it, he could barely speak. Steve stood there, astonished not only by the man's tenacity but also by the depth of emotion he displayed in those words. The fluttering feeling was back, and Steve made no attempt to stamp it out this time. In fact, he was embracing it.

"Thank you," he said. "For all of this. You didn't have to, but you're right. It's what I needed to hear."

Before he could stop himself, Steve found that he was wrapping his arms around Tony's waist. He expected Tony to try and push him away, so he was surprised when Tony returned the embrace. It was warm, and comforting, making Steve not ever want to let go.

At the same time Steve sunk down into that warm bliss, another cold, dreadful thought spawned in the deep recesses of his mind. One that made his stomach clench and fresh tears spring to his eyes.

 _I'm going to get Tony killed._

* * *

 **I feel like I made myself diabetic while writing this chapter. Like, seriously, it's like I pounded back an entire jar of marshmallow fluff in one sitting. If anyone else feels that way, I'm sorry. I actually know what that feels like because I did that once when I was six. Not a pleasant feeling, but you did enjoy the sweetness of it at the time.**

 **Anyways, if you enjoyed this chapter, be sure to review and comment!**

 **Remember kids, I pray for the wicked on the weekend! Mama, can I get another amen?**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 6/22/18.**


	13. Nancy Drew

**My attention's being drawn in six directions at once right now. Let's just get on with this before I snap at someone.**

* * *

 **Monday, August 9th, 2010**

Compared to the heat of the day, the cool night air was very much a relief. Sure, she was shivering, but she'd rather that than melting into a large puddle of sweat and human flesh. She sighed and was trying not to be too impatient, but the man was making it impossible. She understood that he had other matters that required his attention, but she had been standing on this roof for the past two and a half hours waiting for him to show up, in the most uncomfortable pair of high heels known to man, no less. She was about to leave when she heard the door shielding the building's access stairway open and close. Turning around, she was face to face with the man she was meant to meet.

"There you are," she said. "Took you long enough."

"I apologize for keeping you waiting," the man said. "I had other matters I needed to attend to."

"Whatever," she said. "Let's just cut to the chase. I have a cover to maintain and I'd rather not have it blown because my boss doesn't know how to micromanage his time."

"Mission report." His tone was spiked with the tiniest bit of annoyance at the slight. "How is the infiltration plan proceeding?"

"Infiltration is going well," she said. "They've assigned me a mission."

"A mission?" he questioned. "Already? They haven't even held up their end of the bargain yet."

"I believe it's a way to test my loyalties," she said. "Gain their trust. It's nothing too complex. They want me to figure out how Stark Industries was robbed, probably so they can go in and rob it for themselves."

"Stark Industries was robbed?" She narrowed her gaze as a look of surprise came over his face. She didn't think that was possible.

"Yes," she said. "It's all they've been talking about on the news today. How have you not heard about it?"

"I had other matters I needed to attend to," he said. She rolled her eyes in a "whatever" gesture. "What was taken?"

"Some chemicals," she shrugged. "Somewhat valuable on their own, but not as much as you might think. It is possible the thieves were planning on making a bomb, but if you wanted to do something like that, you could just pick up some fertilizer from the nearest Lowes. Why bother robbing one of the most highly-secured labs in the United States?"

"To make a statement," he said. "Show a point. It's very much possible that there was a political message there."

"True," she said. "But if there was, I'm not seeing it. That's not the point, though. They sent me in undercover as a Homeland Security agent. So far, I've seen the crime scene, but all of it came up clean."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there wasn't a single shred of evidence to be found," she said. "Whoever did this was good. They were able to get in and out without being noticed or even leaving behind a speck of DNA."

"Interesting," the man said. "Was Stark there?"

"Yes."

"How did he react?"

"He was oddly cooperative," she said. "From what I've read about him, I half-expected him to throw on the Iron Man suit, kick us all out, and try to investigate it on his own, but no. He cooperated fully and didn't put up much of a fight. It actually surprised me."

"Well, it's better to have him cooperative than pissed off and in the way," the man said.

"True enough." The woman tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "So, how am I playing this? What are my orders?"

"Continue investigating the robbery at Stark Industries," the man said. "I don't care about the how, just the who, the what, and the why."

"Alright," she said. "Should I mislead them on the how should I come across it?"

"Not an option," he said. "If you find the truth, tell them the truth. We've come too far in this operation to have it all come unraveled by a wrong lie at the wrong time. Besides, Stark's not an idiot. He's probably already plugged the hole in his defenses by now and any subsequent attempts would be rendered fruitless.

"My sentiments exactly," she remarked. "Is that all, sir? I really need to be getting back if I want to keep my cover intact."

"Update me on any and all changes in mission status," the man said.

"Will do, sir," the woman said.

"You are dismissed." The woman nodded and headed down the access stairway that the man had emerged from. As she descended the stairs, she sighed.

 _Not too much longer, now,_ she thought. _Just a little bit more. You're almost there._

* * *

 **Tuesday, August 10th, 2010**

In the age of the Internet, it's a given that no one watches the news anymore. If you want to keep up with what's going on in your local area, you must be on Twitter. Using Twitter, the public can break the news hours before the official news outlets can do so. So, if something strange or suspicious was going on, the first thing most people would do would be to pull out their cellphones and start posting on Twitter.

Naturally, if someone was looking for strange goings on in the City of Los Angeles, Twitter would be the first place they would start their search. It took a few hours, but events falling under the category of strange started popping up under the hashtags "wtf", "wierdla", "dafaqisthis", and "freaky." Searching further to the earliest post that could be found, it would quickly be revealed to be a post by a person with the username "abs_rocks" of a huge rock stuck to her fence with the claims that it hadn't been there before. Other users quickly followed up with posts and pictures of other rocks of other rocks that had supposedly suddenly appeared in their backyards and gardens.

Although the validity of the subsequent posts was questionable, the first one seemed legit. First, the poster claimed that the rock was 100% pure sapphire. No one else made that claim. Secondly, on "abs_rocks" profile, it claimed they were a geologist with the U.S. Geological Survey and had posted dozens of pictures of rocks and numerous articles relating to geology, so it was clear that this person knew what they were talking about. While it was only a circumstantial lead, it was still a lead worth checking out, especially when it's the only lead you must go on.

 _Stark did say you could make sapphires with the materials that were stolen. Maybe that's what somebody did._

* * *

Annabeth and several of her colleagues had gathered around the rock that had grown on her back fence the previous night. Well, grown would be inaccurate. Rocks can't grow, but it appeared so suddenly that it might as well have. People were walking around her backyard, taking samples and comparing notes. Annabeth herself was so invested in it that if it hadn't been for Ricky barking, she probably would have never noticed someone was at her door.

"Hold on a second," she called as she scooped the small dog up into her arms. One-handedly, she opened to door to see a professionally dressed woman with long dark hair and green eyes standing there.

"Hello," the woman said. "Is this the Story residence?"

"Yes," Annabeth said. "Is there anything I can help you with?" In response, the woman pulled a leather case out from her pocket and flipped it open to reveal a badge.

"Agent Jenifer Duran," the woman introduced herself. "Department of Homeland Security. Do you mind if I look in your backyard?"

"Is this about the sapphire?" Annabeth asked.

"Indeed, it is," Duran responded.

"Give me a second, and I'll show you to the backyard."

Annabeth quickly locked Ricky in her bedroom and went back to lead Agent Duran through the house. When they reached the backyard, Agent Duran immediately made a bee-line for the fence.

"I don't know what Homeland Security's interest in this is," Annabeth said. "I mean, how is a rock stuck to a fence a matter of national security?"

"It's not." Agent Duran stepped in front of the rock and ran a finger down it. Annabeth didn't know what she expected to find doing that, but if she wanted proof of the rock's authenticity, she would be more than happy to show her how she came to her conclusion. "I'm going to need to know where you were from noon to four PM Saturday and who else has access to your backyard." The agent turned around to face the homeowner.

"I was at a flea market with my sister and my aunt," Annabeth said. "My sister has a key to the house, but she only uses it when I'm out of town and need someone to feed and walk my dog."

"I'm going to need their contact information," Duran said. "Just so I can verify that alibi."

"I'm sorry, what's going on here?" Annabeth's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Why do I need an alibi? Am I in trouble?"

"That has yet to be determined," Agent Duran said. "For right now, all I can tell you is that this mystery rock might have something to do with an investigation I am currently running. Is it alright if I ask a few questions?"

"Okay," Annabeth said reluctantly.

"When did you first notice the rock on your fence?" Duran asked.

"This morning," Annabeth said. "I was out here last night, and it wasn't there then."

"What were you doing when you discovered it?"

"Watering my plants."

"And no one else has access to your backyard?"

"Like I said, other than my sister, no."

"Do you know anyone who has in the past, or is currently working at Stark Industries?" Annabeth raised an eyebrow at that.

"No," she said. "Does this have to do with that robbery at Stark Industries that was all over the Internet yesterday?"

"I can't answer that." Duran then pulled a thin, silver camera out from her other pocket. "Do you mind if I take a few pictures?"

"Sure," Annabeth said. "Go ahead. Everyone else already has."

Agent Duran took more than a few pictures of the rock, she took pictures of the yard, the ground, the house, and even into her neighbor's yard. This got Annabeth concerned and she started wondering if she should call the police. She was just about to go and ask one of her colleagues for their opinion when Agent Duran returned, asking for that contact list. Annabeth just puts down a bunch of fake names and numbers and sent the agent on her way. If she really was Homeland Security, she could find that information out for herself.

* * *

Special Agent Bergeron sat at his desk and tried to enjoy the ham and cheese with mayo he brought for lunch. It was a lot harder than he expected because how could he enjoy his sandwich when this case wasn't going anywhere? Finally deciding that he wasn't hungry, Bergeron put the sandwich down and went back to his hopeless search for leads.

The surveillance video had turned up nothing. It just showed everything as normal in the lab, but then suddenly it was trashed with no explanation. They thought they had a break when Deputy Fairchild informed them of similar robberies of banks and jewelry stores in the Los Angeles area, but that case was also completely dry for leads. No surveillance video, no fingerprints, no DNA… They were completely at a loss for suspects and even if they found one, they'd have nothing to tie them to the crime. The only thing resembling a lead he had was the idea that whoever did this had the intentions of selling the chemicals on the black market and that was a weak theory at best. He had told the guys monitoring Silkroad to keep an eye out just in case, but he doubted anything would turn up.

He was going over the evidence report once again. He had it memorized word-for-word, but he was still afraid he missed something. The saying "insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results" was flashing through his mind when the phone rang.

Checking the caller ID, Bergeron noticed that the number was way too long to be coming from the United States. Hoping this was the break he'd been waiting for, Bergeron answered the phone.

"FBI," he answered. "Special Agent Bergeron, how can I help you?"

"Well, I was hoping you could help me by telling me what your people found on the surveillance video, Agent Bergeron." A frown came across his face.

"Agent Duran," he said. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you again so soon."

"We're working the same case," Duran pointed out. "I think it'd be best if we maintained contact with each other and exchanged information, don't you?"

"Agreed," Bergeron said. "But that wasn't what I was talking about."

"Oh?" Duran said. "And what, pray tell, would that be?"

"My boss just had a talk with your boss," he said.

"Oh really?" Duran's smug intonation was really getting on his nerves. "And how is Secretary Napolitano? I haven't had the pleasure of speaking with her recently."

"Well, I expect you'll hear from her shortly," he said. "After all, I don't think she'd like to hear about one of her agents undermining FBI jurisdiction."

"And I'll expect you'll be duly disappointed when your boss educates you on how a matter of national security takes prescience over a silly squabble over jurisdiction." Bergeron was glad she couldn't see him roll his eyes over the phone.

"I look forward to it," he said.

"Good," she said. "Now about those surveillance videos…"

"Sorry," Bergeron said. "Not going to happen."

"I'm sorry," Duran said. "Did you not just hear me? Matter of national security? Ring any bells?"

"Yes," he said. "But it's still a no-go. The tapes are in FBI custody…"

"I don't **need** the tapes," Duran said. "I just need to know what's on them."

"Well, I can sum that up in just one word," Bergeron said. "Nothing."

"What do you mean?" Duran asked after a moment of pause.

"The robbery wasn't caught on tape at all," Bergeron elaborated. "We have nothing."

"Shit," Duran said. "How did that happen? Was the video tampered with?"

"That appears to be the case," he said.

"At least tell me there's DNA or something to link a suspect to the scene," she said.

"Nope," Bergeron said, popping the "p." "Everything came back clean as a whistle." Duran let out a groan of frustration.

"Well, that's just fantastic," she said.

"What about you," he said. "You come across any leads?"

"All I've got is a rock." Bergeron laughed at that.

"I'd feel sorry for you, Charlie Brown," he said. "But that's what you get for stirring the pot."

"Hilarious," Duran said dryly. "If that's all you got, I think I'll take my search over to ATF. I'm sure Agent Ness will be ten times easier to deal with than you."

"Have fun," Bergeron said sarcastically as Duran hung up the phone. He then went back to work, grumbling about how that phone call was a waste of his time.

* * *

"Welcome back to _ABC 7 Eyewitness News at 4:30_ ," a blonde who had clearly had way too many plastic surgeries said. "I'm Rhoda Beret."

"And I'm Rick Andreu," they greying man sitting next to her said. "Our top story tonight continues to be the break-in at Stark Industries that occurred sometime yesterday morning. LAPD released a statement confirming the investigation is active and more details will be released to the public as they continue to investigate. Still no word on the matter from Tony Stark, majority stockholder, former CEO of Stark Industries, and more recently known as the superhero Iron Man, but current CEO of Stark Industries, Virginia 'Pepper' Potts, did release a statement on behalf of the company this morning. More on that coming up in this half-hour."

"But first, breaking news coming out of Lennox this evening," Rhonda said. "Fire officials are now saying that the blaze that broke out early Monday morning has now been contained, however, residents evacuated from the area still do not have permission to return to their homes. For more, we go to us on-the-scene reporter Jessa Abello. Jess?"

The broadcast then flipped over to the image of a brunette woman wearing an ABC 7 Eyewitness News baseball cap standing in front of a police barricade.

"Thanks, Rhonda," Jessa said. "City of Los Angeles fire officials have confirmed that the fire has indeed been contained this evening. However, residents are still not permitted to return to their homes due to lingering safety concerns. Reports indicate that the fire broke out in the early hours of the morning on Monday after the blast rocked the neighborhood and woke hundreds of residents. There have been no reported injuries or fatalities thus far though police suspect deaths may be uncovered as they investigate further. The cause of the blast has yet to be determined, but police believe it could be related to the production of illegal substances…"

 _Or from an amateur chemist royally messing up…_

That was all she needed to hear. Within seconds she had bounded out of the restaurant whose Wi-Fi she was stealing and was heading to her car on the warpath to Lennox. Turns out the more traditional forms of media could be useful after all.

* * *

Nina was heading to her girlfriend Oswin's house for their usual Tuesday chill night. This week, it was Nina's turn to order the takeout while Oswin handled the movie. She couldn't wait to see Oswin's reaction when she brought in the Thai food from her favorite place. It was a bit pricey but worth it.

Just as she was rolling into Oswin's neighborhood, a police barricade stopped Nina dead in her tracks. Unsure of what was going on, Nina quickly turned around and parked the car about a block away. When she returned to the site on foot, she spotted a woman coming out of the restricted area. She looked like she was an official, so Nina decided to flag her down and try asking her what was happening.

"Excuse me, miss," The woman looked up as Nina jogged over and came to a stop in front of her. "Are you the police?"

"Yes," the woman said. "Well, sort of. Agent Jennifer Duran, Department of Homeland Security. How can I help you?"

"What is going on here?" Nina asked. "Why is the road blocked off?"

"There was a fire emergency a few blocks over," Agent Duran explained. "It's been contained, but residents aren't going to be allowed back in until tomorrow. Safety concerns and all."

"What do you mean?" Nina asked. "Did one of the houses catch fire?"

"There was a major explosion," Duran explained. "One house was completely leveled and a few more caught on fire or were damaged. It's contained, but you can't return home just yet."

"Holy shit." Nina felt a cold ball of ice forming in the pit of her stomach. "Which house was it?"

"I'm not sure if I can disclose that." Nina's heart was descending into the pit of icy hell.

"My… Friend lives here." Nina could feel the panic rising in her voice with every word. "Can you please just tell me if she's okay? I haven't heard from her in days." It wasn't unusual for Oswin to suddenly fall out of contact for a couple of days, but given the circumstances, it only gave Nina more cause for concern.

"Sure," Duran said. "I can go back and ask one of the officers if she's been accounted for. What's her name?"

"Winnifred Clara Oswald," Nina said. "She likes to go by 'Oswin.'"

"And her address?" The minute the words came out of Nina's mouth, the agent's eyes went wide with horror. Nina knew what the next words out of Duran's mouth were going to be, but it didn't make them any less devastating.

Nina collapsed to the ground in a fit of horrifying sobs. Never in her life had she experienced such pain and probably never would again. All she could do was sit, scream, and cry for her loss.

* * *

 _Winnifred Clara Oswald. At least now I can say that the whole wild goose chase wasn't for nothing. Now I have something no one else has: an actual solid lead on a suspect._

* * *

 **Sorry this is such a rush job this time. I've got to find a way to keep a baby from rolling off her playmat. Be sure to read and review and all that happy fun stuff!**

 **Remember kids, if your friend posts publically on Facebook that she's babysitting today, don't text them trying to make plans for the day and get pissed when your friend can't come over because "you never told me!" Yes, I did. I know I did because you liked the status! (I told you my attention's being pulled in six different directions!)**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 7/1/18.**


	14. The Magic Words

**Have you ever gotten drunk and then gotten behind a wheel of a car, crashed it, and tried to put it back together as police sirens ring out in the background? If you haven't, congratulations! You are more responsible than most of my family members! If you have, then you understand how I feel about this fic right now.**

* * *

 **Wednesday, August 11th, 2010**

Kidnapping: To steal, carry off, or abduct by force or fraud, especially for use as a hostage or to extract ransom. It is usually unlawful and/or against the person's will. Steve didn't **want** to go back to S.H.I.E.L.D. Tony wasn't **forcing** him to go back to California with him. He never made any **fraudulent** claims and he wasn't holding Steve **hostage** or **extracting ransom**. Also, you can't **steal** people. That would imply people were property and the thirteenth amendment would have to disagree with that. So, most of the requirements were not met, meaning that flying Steve across the country without S.H.I.E.L.D.'s knowledge or permission technically wasn't kidnapping. At least, that's what Tony was going to say once S.H.I.E.L.D. caught up with them and took Steve back.

Admittedly, not going right back to New York was probably a terrible idea. Already Tony's phone was ringing off the hook and he wouldn't be surprised if agents were waiting for them at the airport. After all, they didn't put that tracker bracelet on Steve for nothing. However, Steve didn't want to go, and Tony didn't want him to leave. Tony also wanted to crawl into his bed and not climb out until the beginning of the next century when they finally had a cure for whatever was ailing him, so to have both, he had to take Steve with him.

Steve didn't seem to mind the sudden unplanned cross-country plane trip. In fact, from what it sounded like, S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't doing much to help him adjust, just gave him a bunch of files and told him to figure it out on his own. Granted, they could just be keeping their distance as not to overwhelm him, but it seemed to Tony that they were going about it the wrong way. Steve needed to hear the full truth of what happened during his time gone, and he also probably needed to talk to a psychiatrist or something. Pepper had tried to make him go to one after Afghanistan (which he did eventually do, and it ended up being just a waste of an hour) and considering how messed up he was after that (and still is) he would be surprised if that even amounted to a quarter of the trauma Steve was facing now. Everyone he knew is either dead or in their nineties, the world's moved on sixty years without him, and to top it all off he was in the middle of one of the deadliest wars in world history when he went under, only to awaken in relative peace-times (ignoring certain aforementioned conflicts in the middle east). That had to do something to him psychologically. Tony would bet money on it.

Looking around the holographic screen to see Steve's sleeping form, Tony couldn't help but smile. Although it probably wasn't comfortable to sleep sitting up the way Steve was, his face was peaceful as he took shallow breath after shallow breath. Whatever doubts or worries he had about bringing Steve back to Los Angeles with him instantly vanished. He was with him and that was all that mattered, at least for right now.

Tony turned back to what he was doing on the screen. He was still going over that surveillance tape, but he was much closer now to see exactly what had happened that he was that morning. It was extremely tedious, but after rewinding and playing it repeatedly a thousand times, he could now see what looked like a female figure breaking into the locker and leaving the lab with all the chemical components on a cart. He had yet to get a clear shot of her face, but once he did…

 _Got it!_ He was mindful enough not to shout that aloud. He didn't want to wake Steve after all, but he couldn't help but want to celebrate. It was only for half a second, but the woman on the video glanced up at the camera, giving it a full view of her face. This was exactly the break he needed! Now all he needed to do was put a name to the face.

"JARVIS," he said quietly. Not only did he not want to wake Steve, but his throat was so sore that if he spoke above a whisper, it would feel like he swallowed a glassful of razor blades. "Run a facial recognition scan on the surveillance video at the current timestamp."

"Sir, are you sure?" JARVIS asked. "I don't detect any faces at the timestamp indicated."

"Well, keep scanning until you detect one," Tony said. I don't know what they did to the tape, but it made it…"

Tony immediately shut his mouth. A wave of nausea had come over him and it felt like if he kept his mouth open for even a second longer, he'd projectile vomit everywhere. He was very aware that his entire body was shaking. He tried taking a deep breath through his nose to calm himself. All freaking out would do is upset his stomach even more.

"Sir, are you alright?"

 _Nope! Nope! Nope!_ Tony sprung up and ran to the bathroom. He just barely made it to the sink before he threw up. He shook as he gripped the edges of the basin. With each tight clench of his stomach, it felt like he was going to die. Eventually, it stopped, and Tony could finally catch his breath. He tried to enjoy every deep, soothing gasp but a hand coming to rest on his back startled him out of it. He turned to see Steve standing in the doorway, pulling his hand back as if he'd been burned.

"Sorry," he said. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah," Tony said. "I'm fine. Just a little sick to my stomach. I'm good." Tony tried to wave off Steve's concern, but that only caused Steve to frown and his eyebrows to knit together. Hesitantly, as not to startle Tony, Steve reached out and pressed the back of his hand to Tony's forehead.

"You're hot," Steve pointed out.

"Thanks, I hadn't noticed," Tony smirked as Steve's cheeks turned the tiniest shade redder. Steve was able to keep a cool face, though, and ignored the comment as he continued to question Tony.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "How long have you been sick for?"

"A few days." Tony winced at the way Steve's eyebrows raised in alarm. "It's mostly just been a headache, though. I haven't been throwing up the entire time." That didn't do anything to ease Steve's concern.

"You've had a headache for a few days?" he questioned. "Have you seen a doctor or anything?"

"No," Tony said. "I've been getting them on and off for the past year. This is normal for me. I'm used to it."

"Have you ever had a headache so bad that you threw up from it before?" Tony shook his head.

"No," he said. "I think it's this bug I have that made me throw up. I'm fine."

"Alright," Steve said reluctantly. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure," Tony said.

"Okay," Steve said as he let the matter drop. "Do you have any mouthwash or toothpaste or anything like that here?"

"No," Tony said. "Why?"

"You need to wash your mouth out after throwing up," Steve said. "Just the taste of vomit in your mouth can make you throw up again." Tony's stomach churned at the thought.

"I think I have a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps at the bar," Tony said. "It's not Listerine, but it tastes enough like it. That's good enough, right?"

Steve nodded and went to retrieve the bottle. Tony, meanwhile got a small plastic cup from the dispenser beside the sink, filled it with water, and did a preliminary rinse. It did nothing to get rid of the taste, but it didn't hurt anything. A moment later, Steve returned with the bottle.

"This it?" Tony's vision was blurry, so he couldn't really make out the label, but the shape of the bottle seemed to be correct.

"Yeah," he said as he took the bottle from Steve. He struggled a little to get the bottle open but managed to do it without help. He carefully poured the liquor into the tiny plastic cup, worried that his hand would tremble and cause it to overflow. Satisfied with the amount, Tony handed the bottle back to Steve and brought the cup to his lips.

"Don't swallow it," Steve warned.

"I know," Tony said as he took another sip. Honestly, the last thing he needed on top of the Swine Flu and the migraine from hell was a hangover. He swished the alcohol around in his mouth for a solid thirty seconds before spitting it out into the sink and taking a long, deep breath.

"You okay?" Steve asked after a moment of silence.

"Yeah," Tony said. "Yeah. I just really want to lie down."

"Do you need help getting back to your seat?" This time Steve's concern brought a small smile to Tony's face.

"I'll manage."

Despite saying that he was still happy that Steve decided to hover close to him in case he stumbled and fell, and when he did Steve was right there to catch him. From that point on, Steve guided Tony back to his seat, keeping one hand on his shoulder and the other hand lay gently on the small of his back. Tony grinned as he sat back down in his seat.

"Do you need anything?" Steve asked. "Water, anything?"

"I'd rather not put anything on my stomach right now." Steve nodded in understanding. "Besides, you're my guest. I should be asking you that question."

It was then that Tony noticed that the holographic screen was still up. Knowing that JARVIS would still run the scans even if the screen wasn't up, Tony swiped the screen away, turning it off.

"That's nothing," he said. "Don't worry about that, but really, is there anything you want?"

"No," Steve said. "I'm good. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Tony smiled.

"Alright, then." Tony patted the empty space next to him. "Why don't you have a seat, Captain?" Steve's eyebrows raised, and he looked like he was trying to will his face not to change color.

"Are you sure?" Tony's eyebrows knitted together.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he said. "Why wouldn't I be? Come on." He patted the seat again. "Sit down. I only bite when provoked."

This time, Steve complied, sliding into the seat next to Tony. He suddenly seemed a little tense and that wasn't the first time tonight. Tony wanted to put his hand on Steve's shoulder again, but he worried that would just make things worse. So, he settled for purely verbal forms of comfort this time.

"Hey," Tony said. "You alright?"

"Yeah," was Steve's only response.

"You sure?" Tony asked.

"Yeah." Steve noticeably winced at the repetition of his answers, so he expanded on it. "I mean, I'm not really used to this…" He gestured between him and Tony.

"It's alright," Tony said. "Like I said back at the museum, I want to move forward with you. If there's anything bothering you or anything I can help you with please, don't hesitate to ask." Steve frowned.

"I don't think you can help me with this, Tony," he said.

"Try me," Tony said. "I mean, I'm my own mess of a basket case, so I'm not sure how much of a help I'd be, but if you want to talk, I'm willing to listen. Just say the magic words."

"Those would be…?"

"Please and thank you," Tony said. "Mostly just please." Tony could see the edges of Steve's frown rise into a soft smile.

"Thank you for the offer," Steve said. "But really, this is something I need to figure out for myself. Besides, I thought you said you wanted to lie down."

 _Nice try, sweetheart._ Tony pulled his legs up onto the seat and leaned over to rest his head on Steve's (well-toned) arm. He could feel Steve tense up a little bit before relaxing seconds later.

"There," he said. "I'm lying down." Steve snorted.

"No, you're just kind of half-lying down and you're mostly leaning on me." Despite the complaining, Tony could tell Steve was smiling even though he wasn't looking at him.

"Alright," Tony conceded. "I'm half-lying, half-leaning. It's still better than being upright, though."

"Sure, it is." Tony felt a tiny bit of a laugh escape him. He turned his head a bit to look at Steve.

"Seriously," Tony said. "If you want to talk about anything – it doesn't even have to be what's bothering you – just anything you want to talk about, I'm all ears. We still have two hours to kill." Tony saw the expression on Steve's face change to one of contemplation before moving to arrange himself, so he was comfortable again.

"I don't know," Steve eventually gave up. "I can't think of anything that both of us would understand."

"It doesn't have to be anything too complicated," Tony said. "Just keep it simple."

"Simple…" Tony listened to a hum that reverberated throughout Steve's body. "What's your favorite color?" Tony laughed. He couldn't help it. Of all the simple questions in the world, that one had to be the simplest. Nonetheless, Tony still answered it in a completely genuine manner.

"Red. Red is my favorite color."

* * *

 **Thursday, August 12th, 2010**

 _Red,_ Steve thought. _The color of passion. A color of warning. The color of roses and blood and dresses worn and long forgotten. The taste of strawberries and apples and Peggy's soft lips. The feeling of anger and warmth and the lingering comfort of a mother's sweater-clad arms. Tony's favorite color. Red._

Steve and Tony had talked about plenty of other things, but for some reason, he homed in on that simple conversation starter. He wanted to draw something red now. Was that weird? It probably was, but who cared? Now, he had bigger things that he probably should be worried about.

The number one thing that he should have been thinking was _what the hell am I doing?_ Yes, Steve was attracted to Tony, but this whole thing had gotten out of hand incredibly fast, so much so to the point where Steve was starting to wonder if Tony was attracted to him, too. Not only was the idea preposterous, it was also dangerous. Although it was incredibly unlikely that the attraction was mutual… Hell, if anyone found out that Steve liked boys and had an interest in Tony, they'd probably have Tony locked up in the asylum for fear that he was like that as well. Steve wasn't afraid of anyone finding out about him. As stated before, taking a bullet to the brain was preferable to him over spending a lifetime in an asylum, but if Tony was going to face that fate because of him… The awful feelings that stirred up made Steve glad he wasn't thinking about that. He'd rather have pointless musings about red than think about that possibility.

Glancing over at Tony, Steve saw that he was still fast asleep, using his arm as a pillow. At some point during the conversation, Tony had drifted off. Steve didn't try to move Tony off his arm or wake him up. He just let him sleep. That didn't help anything as far as the things he **wasn't** worried about but **should be** were concerned, but Steve couldn't help it. Tony looked so content and peaceful as he slept. Not to mention that he was enjoying the little bit of contact they had a lot more than he probably should. Regardless, the biggest reason why he let Tony continue to sleep without being disturbed was a simple fact that Tony was sick and needed the rest. It was just as simple as that.

Tony slept for a while, at least an hour. Eventually, Steve had to wake him up. They were starting their descent into LA and Tony had to sit up and fasten his seatbelt. Upon waking, Steve noticed that Tony seemed to be much less coherent than he did earlier. Steve tried to tell himself that Tony was just a little groggy from just waking up, but some instinct deep inside of him told him that wasn't the case. He didn't like how hot Tony had felt earlier and Steve was starting to wonder whether he was becoming delirious.

When the plane finally came to a stop and they could get off, Steve stood up, but Tony didn't move. He wondered if Tony fell back to sleep and tried gently shaking his shoulder. When that didn't work he called his name.

"Tony?"

Tony's eyes fluttered open, revealing them to be red and glassy. Steve forgot to breathe for a second and not in a good way.

"Are you feeling okay?" Steve asked while moving his hand between Tony's neck and forehead. They were both ways too warm.

"Mm-hm," was the only response Tony gave.

"Can you stand?" Steve had to ask.

"Yeah, just give me a second." Tony stood up and slid out of the seat. He seemed stable on his feet, but once he got out into the aisle he stumbled forward, only to have Steve catch him.

"You sure you feel okay?" he asked as he lifted Tony up.

"I'm fine," he tried to reassure, but Steve wasn't convinced.

"Do you need help getting off the plane?" It was an easy question, but it took Tony an agonizingly long time to respond, but eventually he did in a small, almost defeated voice.

Steve immediately slipped his arm around Tony's shoulders and hoisted him up. It didn't take much effort for Steve to lift Tony up being a super soldier and all, but it was a little difficult to navigate the narrow aisle with the two of them walking side-by-side.

"I'm sorry," Tony muttered as they made it to the threshold of the plane's exit.

"It's fine," Steve assured. "You're sick and exhausted. You just need to get to bed." Tony hummed in agreement. "Where do we go from here?"

Steve hadn't noticed it before, but Tony had apparently been walking with his eyes closed the entire time they were walking through the plane. He only realized it when Tony opened his eyes to look around. Well, that explained why it had been so difficult to walk.

"Just get off the plane and walk forward," he said. "Happy is right over there with the car." Tony pointed over to a white sports car that was parked nearby, and Steve started going down the steps, walking them towards it.

It took a little bit, especially considering Tony wasn't doing much to help Steve out by walking with his eyes closed, but eventually, they made it to the car. The man Tony identified as Happy (odd name but Steve's heard odder) didn't seem surprised that Tony was struggling to stay upright. He did raise an odd eyebrow at Steve, though.

"Boss didn't say he was bringing anyone back with him." Steve heard Tony mumble something but couldn't make out what he said. "How much has he had to drink?"

"Nothing, I don't think." Steve looked over at Tony, who nodded in agreement.

"Just water," he said. "Nothing else." A look of concern came over Happy's face.

"Are you alright, Boss?" he asked. "You seem… Off."

"I'm fine," Tony assured for what had to have felt like the billionth time that week. "I just need to get to bed."

"Right," Happy said. "Of course." He then pushed the driver's seat up so Steve and Tony could get in the back. Tony managed to do so without any help and Steve followed closely behind him. Once they were in, Happy pushed the seat back into its correct position and got in himself.

"Oh yeah," Tony said as the door slammed shut. "I almost forgot. Happy, this is Steve. Steve, Happy."

"Nice to meet you," Steve said to the eyes that were glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

"You too." It was clear that Happy was just saying that to be polite and all conversation died there. Tony fell back to sleep quickly, leaving Steve to stare out the window at the passing landscape as they made their way to Malibu.

When they arrived at Tony's home, Steve tried to get a good look at the house but found it hard to in the dark. He was sure that it was grand and lavish, though, but he could be impressed by it in the morning. Right now, he needed to help Tony get to bed.

 _Oh God!_ Steve shook his head to get rid of the dirty images that thought stirred up and instead focused on waking Tony up.

"Tony," he said as he shook Tony's shoulder. "Tony, wake up." Tony's eyes fluttered open and a soft smile appeared on his face.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey." Steve couldn't help but allow a small smile to come over his face as well. "We're here. You've got to get up."

"Already?" Tony rubbed his eyes. "Okay."

Steve held out his hand and Tony took it. He helped Tony get out of the car and once he was out, slung Tony's arm back over his shoulder. Happy gave them an odd look up and down.

"Do you need any help getting inside?" he asked.

"No," Tony said. "I'll be alright. Thanks for picking us up so late."

"No problem," Happy said. "Anytime. You sure you don't need help."

"I'm fine." The hoarse edge to Tony's voice directly contradicted that statement. "I've got Steve. Don't worry about me. Just go home and get some sleep." Happy seemed hesitant but eventually agreed.

"Alright," he said. "See you tomorrow, Boss."

"See you tomorrow," Tony called back.

Steve then helped Tony to the door and into the house. Once inside Tony called for JARVIS to turn on the lights (Steve wasn't surprised that Tony had the AI in his house as well.) and directed Steve up the stairs to his bedroom. Pulling back the covers, Steve helped Tony get situated in bed before pulling the blankets over him and looking around the room awkwardly.

"You comfortable?" he asked. "Do you need anything?"

"Mm," Tony hummed. "I'm good." Then, much like he did on the plane, Tony patted the empty space next to him. "Lie down."

"Uh…" Steve could feel his heart slamming against his ribs. He hadn't felt like that since the last time he'd gotten pneumonia, which was a few months before the serum. He forgot how terrible that felt. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Why?" There wasn't any accusation in his tone (just drowsiness) but it still served to fuel Steve's anxiety.

"Just because…" He tried to search for a valid response. "I don't know. It's just…" Tony sat up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm okay, for now."

"Good," Steve said.

"It's just…" Tony said. "You know it's alright to say you're not comfortable. I know we just met a few days ago and things are kind of changing fast, but… I like you. I haven't really had a chance to get to know you, but what I've seen so far, I like, and I don't want to pressure you into doing something you're not comfortable with. I just need to hear you say the words."

Steve was shocked. Not only had he never heard anyone say anything like that to anyone, let alone him, but he certainly hadn't expected Tony to say he liked him… Albeit, as a friend as Tony, had most definitely meant platonically, but he still said he liked him. Truth be told, he did want to get into bed with Tony he just worried about either getting caught or Tony waking up and regretting it in the morning.

"Are you sure you want me to sleep with you?" Steve would have flushed at the phrasing if he hadn't ascertained to himself that they were speaking on purely platonic terms.

"Yes," Tony said. "I'm not drunk. I know what I'm asking. I'm just sick and tired and don't want to be alone."

Steve nodded, knowing the feeling. When he was little and got sick, he'd beg his mother to sleep in his room with him because he didn't want to be alone. So, reminding himself that this was completely platonic, Steve walked over to the other side of the bed, toed off his shoes, pulled back the covers, and climbed in. Tony shifted so that he was lying down and facing Steve. The smile on his face was immediately reciprocated.

 _Yeah, he's not going to regret this._

"JARVIS, can you turn out the lights?" Almost as soon as the lights went out, Steve could hear Tony's soft breathing, indicating that he was asleep.

* * *

The first time Tony woke up, the sun hadn't risen yet, but he could still see Steve's sleeping face thanks to the soft glow of the moonlight coming through the window. At first, he wasn't sure what had woken him, but it became clear when his stomach gave a violent lurch. He quickly turned to his other side and was grateful for the fact that he had brought the wastebasket over to the side of the bed a few days ago. He kept waiting for something to come up, but nothing ever did. He fell asleep internally debating whether he should try moving to the bathroom.

* * *

The second time Tony woke up, he felt something cold pressed against the back of his neck. He turned to see Steve leaning over him and pulling his hand away.

"Sorry," he said. "Just checking to make sure you're okay. You feel very warm." Looking out the window, Tony could see that the sun was barely beginning to rise.

"I'm okay. Don't worry. Go back to sleep." As an example, Tony rolled over so he was close to Steve and went back to sleep.

* * *

The third time he woke up it was to cellphone's ringtone. He muttered something resembling an assurance and a plea to go back to sleep before dismissing the call and turning off the phone. He fell back to sleep within moments.

* * *

The fourth and final time Tony woke up that morning, he was clutching his own ears and begging for the pain to stop. There was a loud, high pitched noise coming from somewhere in his room and Tony's eyes desperately sought out the source.

"Are you awake now, Sir?" Almost immediately what Tony told JARVIS the day of the robbery came flooding back to him.

"Yes," Tony shouted, kicking off the covers. "I'm awake! I'm listening! Just please stop that noise!" The noise then stopped completely and Tony let out a breath of relief. If he didn't already have a headache…

"My apologies, Sir," JARVIS said. "But there seems to be a matter with your health that requires your urgent attention."

Before Tony could respond or ask questions the door to his bedroom opened and Pepper came rushing in. Tony didn't realize that Steve wasn't lying next to him until he saw the super soldier moving to stand in the doorway. His attention was quickly recaptured by Pepper, though, who was pressing her hand to his forehead, concern crystal clear in her blue eyes.

"Tony, my God, I've never seen you look this bad." Her hand moved to the back of his neck. "You weren't like this a few days ago. What's wrong? You're burning up!"

"I don't…" was all Tony could get out.

"Sir," JARVIS' voice interrupted. "You're running a 105-degree fever. I suggest you seek medical help immediately."

Pepper's eyes narrowed in confusion. It was clear she didn't know what that meant. Steve's eyes, though, were wide with alarm. Even if he wanted to, Tony couldn't lie. As much as he wanted to assure Pepper that he was fine, and he didn't need help, at this point doing so would absolutely be lying.

 _The brain fries at 106-degrees._ Tony reminded himself. _You really can't get away with this._ Sparing one last glance at Steve, Tony looked Pepper directly in the eyes.

"Pepper," he said. "I'm dying."

* * *

 **Don't get me wrong, I still like this fic and want to keep writing it, it's just the chapter I'm currently writing is hard. I got about halfway through it and I realized I made about eighteen logical missteps and I probably need to start from scratch again, and the scheduled post date for this chapter is about three weeks away, so it's not like I have much time to do so.**

 **Anyways, if you liked this chapter, feel free to review or comment or whatever it is you want. I'm not picky, but I would appreciate some kind of response! :)**

 **Remember kids, if they've just drunk a fifth of vodka, don't dare them to drive.**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 7/3/18.**


	15. Bring On the Barbershop Quartet

**Happy Fourth of July to everyone in the US and a very happy 100th birthday to everyone's favorite sentinel of liberty, Steve Rogers - AKA Captain America! Do you want to know the best way you can celebrate? It's by not doxxing me, getting off that hire-a-hitman site your on and deleting the TOR browser from your computer completely. Yeah, it's one of THOSE chapters.**

* * *

 **Thursday, August 12th, 2010**

Steve just stood in the doorway. He wasn't sure what else he was supposed to do. After all, he pretty much got caught red-handed (though, honestly, they weren't doing anything) but his concern for Tony was weighing out his own anxiety on the situation. Tony did not look good. A leper probably looked healthier than he did right now. All morning Steve had been worried for Tony's health and JARVIS announcing that Tony had a 106-degree fever was just the icing on the cake for him.

When Steve woke up that morning, he immediately noticed that Tony was so pale that his complexion was almost ashen. He was alarmed when he felt how hot Tony was, but after Tony woke up, Steve just let him fall back to sleep. He thought maybe Tony would get better with a little more rest, and the fact that Tony had basically rolled into his arms might have also made him reluctant to wake him. They stayed like that for a while, only being interrupted when some sort of device started playing music from Tony's pocket and Tony woke up to shut it off.

It all came to an end, though, when a blonde woman suddenly walked into the room. It sounded like she was in the middle of apologizing for stealing a spare key or something, but she stopped dead when she realized that Tony wasn't in bed by himself. She then slowly backed out of the room with eyes as wide as headlights and shut the door. From what he could hear, it sounded like she immediately turned, went down the stairs, and bolted out of the house.

Steve didn't try to go after her. He just laid there, completely paralyzed. He was more shocked than anything. He hadn't expected anyone to come in and he guessed Tony hadn't been either, given that he hadn't mentioned that someone might come over or even try to get up. That just made Steve worried again. He once again checked Tony's temperature and was shocked to find that he felt even **hotter** than earlier. At that point, Steve realized he should probably be doing something to bring down the fever, so he went into the bathroom, soaked a cloth with cold water, and pressed it to Tony's forehead. It wasn't much, and it probably did little to help, but at least it was something.

About an hour passed before he heard the front door open again. This time, he could hear two people talking. One was very clearly the girl from earlier and the other voice belonged to a second woman.

"I'm sorry," he could hear the blonde girl say. "I know you have all sorts of important work to do, but I **really** am not sure what I'm supposed to do here."

"You didn't have to do this at your last job?" the other woman asked.

"No," the blonde girl said. "Most of the diplomats I protected were either married, celibate, or a combination of both. Sure, a few bought prostitutes, but they were usually pretty good about skedaddling once the hour was up."

"Lucky you," the other woman said. "Unfortunately, this isn't my first time taking out the trash."

"Oh," though the girl didn't sound that surprised. "Should I take notes?"

"No," the other woman said. "After this it should come naturally."

There was then a knock at the door, and when no one answered it came open. In walked a woman in a gray dress with her red hair pulled back into a ponytail, the blonde woman from before following close behind. The redheaded woman's face scrunched in confusion as she turned back to the blonde.

"I thought you said he was in bed with someone?"

"He is!" The blonde gestured towards Steve.

"Yeah, but they're not…" The redhead gave up. "You know what, never mind. I'll take care of it." The blonde slowly backed away again, leaving the redhead to turn her attention to Steve. "Hi." Although she was smiling and using a pleasant tone of voice, it was clear that she was not pleased.

"Hi," Steve cautiously said back.

"Who are you?" the woman asked. "Why are you here?" Concise and to the point. Steve liked that. Better than stumbling over words and making the situation more awkward.

"Steve." He'd give her his last name if she asked, but he was hoping it wouldn't come to that. "I'm here because Tony asked me to be." The woman nodded, seemingly accepting that response.

"Well, Steve," she said. "You wouldn't mind stepping outside for a minute, would you?"

"That sounds fine to me, ma'am." Steve nodded and slowly got up, trying to be careful not to disturb Tony. Thankfully, Tony slept on. Though his appearance was still worrying, he looked absolutely content. Steve gave the sleeping man a small smile before following the redheaded woman out into the small sitting area. As soon as the door shut the redheaded woman took a step towards him.

"I'm sorry about this," she said as she extended her hand. "My name is Pepper Potts and I didn't mean to interrupt you. Miss Conroy – Tony's assistant – asked me to come and check on Tony. I'm a friend of his."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am." Steve was able to keep his face cool and composed but he felt his hand tremble a bit as he shook Pepper's. If she noticed it, she didn't say anything.

"Listen," Pepper said. "I don't know how you met Tony or how you got here, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave now. It's almost noon and he's a busy man. He needs to get to work."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Steve had to say. Pepper's eyes narrowed, and her mouth opened, but Steve cut her off before she could say anything. "I mean Tony going straight to work. I'll gladly leave if you want me to, but I just thought you should know that Tony's been running a fever for most of the night and all of this morning." Immediately her expression turned to puzzlement.

"What?" she said. "Like, how bad?"

"Pretty bad," Steve said. "I put a cold cloth on his forehead, but that hasn't seemed like it's done much to help."

Then, Steve was suddenly clutching his ears. The door helped to muffle the sound (enough to the point that Pepper was looking at him strangely as her gaze went to the door and back to him) but it wasn't dampened enough for his super-human hearing not to be affected by it. It sounded like some sort of high-pitched whine and apparently it was enough to wake up Tony, as the man could be heard through the door pleading for the noise to stop. Pepper rushed forward into the room and Steve followed behind, stopping in the doorway and listening as Tony confessed that he was dying.

Back in the moment, Steve was finding it very hard to mask his worry and concern. He knew that a 106-degree fever was bad. As sickly as he had been before the serum, he had never surpassed 104.8 degrees. However, he had heard from his mother numerous times as she nursed him back to health that it was dangerous to mess around with a fever that high.

 _"The brain cooks at 106,"_ she'd say. _"That's not a joke! Parts of the brain really do stop working if you get too hot and once they stop working you can never fix them. That's why we've got to take care of this now!"_

He felt stupid for not realizing that Tony's fever was that high. Just one degree more and he'd be suffering from permanent brain damage. He probably should have urged him to go to the hospital sooner. Maybe as soon as they got off the plane, but the point was mute now. What's done was done and now Tony was running the risk of serious brain injury or – as he confessed to Pepper – even death. Steve tried to reassure himself that Tony was going to be okay, but if the man himself was saying that he was dying, then things really weren't looking good.

As soon as the words "I'm dying" left Tony's mouth, the room fell into sort of a stunned silence. Pepper seemed like she needed a minute to take in the information. When she finally spoke up her voice had a slight panicked quality to it, but overall, she managed to sound relatively calm.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes," Tony said. "Do you think I'd lie about this?"

"No," Pepper said. "What's wrong? Why do you think you're dying?"

"He has a fever of 105," Steve spoke up. "He needs to see a doctor before he suffers brain damage or worse."

"Oh really?" Pepper raised an eyebrow. "And you got you medical degree from…?"

"My mom was a nurse," Steve explained. "And I also got sick a lot as a kid. I know it's dangerous to let a fever get up that high."

"He's right, Pep," Tony said. "Plus, I don't think the fever's the only thing we should be worrying about." Pepper relented.

"Alright," she said. "Should I call an ambulance, or would you be okay going in my car?"

"Car, please," Tony responded. "The last thing I need right now is the kind of attention an ambulance would bring." Tony had forced himself to sit up. It clearly took him a lot of effort as he swung his legs over to sit on the edge of the bed. Pepper put her hand on his shoulder.

"Do you need help?" Before Tony could answer her, Steve was at his bedside offering him a hand. Tony took it and Steve helped him pull himself up. He situated his arm around Tony's shoulders much like he did the night before and Tony turned his head to smile at him.

"Hello again, stranger." Steve returned the smile for the briefest of moments.

"Hello yourself." Steve then turned his gaze to Pepper. "Where's your car?"

"It's parked out front," Pepper said. "Down the stairs and out the same way you came in." Steve nodded and the three made their way out of the bedroom. They were joined by the blonde woman – Conroy – as they started to make their way down the stairs.

"Hey," she said. "What's going on? Can I help?"

"Tony's sick," Pepper explained. "Can you call the hospital and give them a head's up that we're coming?"

"Sure," Conroy said. "What hospital?"

"West Hills," Pepper said.

"Okay." Glancing over his shoulder, Steve saw that Conroy was tapping away at a black device like the see-though one that Tony kept on his person. He wondered how safe it was to walk down stairs and play with that thing at the same time, but she seemed to manage it just fine. They were almost out the door before anyone spoke up again, and it just so happened to be Conroy. "Wait, West Hills Hospital? That's so far away! Isn't there somewhere closer?"

"It's only a thirty-minute drive," Pepper dismissed.

"Yeah, but it's twenty miles away," Conroy pointed out. "This is Malibu! There has to be a fancy rich people hospital in this town somewhere!"

"You want to waste time looking for one, be my guest," Pepper said. "Meanwhile, we have an emergency situation and I'm sure Tony would very much appreciate getting the treatment he needs without getting accosted by the press."

"Yes, Tony would very much like that." Pepper shot him a glare for the sarcasm, but it did get Conroy to drop the issue and do as she was told.

"Alright," she said. "I'll call them but I'm just saying… Hello, is this West Hills Hospital and Medical Center?" As Conroy continued her phone call, Pepper opened the passenger-side door for Tony and Steve helped him get in the car. Although he was having a hard time staying on his feet, Tony was able to fasten his seat belt on his own.

"Thanks," Tony said, looking at Steve and smiling. Steve didn't get why he kept doing that, but he wouldn't deny that he enjoyed it. Tony looked good when he was smiling, even as pale, sweaty, and weak as he was now.

"You're welcome," Steve said. "So, what should I do?" The smile faded, and Tony looked confused.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You're going to the hospital," Steve said. "Do you want me to stay here or have S.H.I.E.L.D. come pick me up?"

"You can come with us to the hospital if you want." Steve raised his eyebrows.

"What?" he found himself saying at the same time as Pepper. Looking over at the redheaded woman – who was now sitting in the driver's seat of the car – Steve could tell that she was assessing him the same way an animal would a predator or a threat. He didn't blame her. For all she knew, he was the one that made Tony sick.

"Tony are you sure?" she asked. "Who is this guy?"

"I'll explain later," Tony said. "Trust me, Steve's a good person, but for right now can we focus on getting to the hospital?" Pepper put her hands on the steering wheel and took a deep breath in and out.

"Alright," she said. "If you're coming then get in back."

Unsure of what else to do, Steve slammed Tony's door shut and got into the seat behind him. The other rear passenger seat was occupied by Conroy, who was still on the phone with the hospital. Things were quiet for almost the entire drive. Tony most likely fell asleep, Steve and Pepper didn't have much to say to each other, and Conroy was too busy telling her small, black device that yes, she'll hold every few minutes. He didn't think anything could be more awkward than the car ride the night before, but apparently he was wrong.

* * *

Once they arrived at the hospital, Tony was quickly whisked off by several nurses to a private room on a mostly empty floor. Steve and Conroy were directed to a waiting room while Pepper followed Tony into his room. After Afghanistan and the whole Stane situation, Tony arranged things so that if he should get kidnapped/die/be rendered incapacitated in any way shape or form, Pepper and Rhodey had the legal authority to make decisions on his behalf. Currently, Rhodey was on a classified mission (something that seemed to be happening a lot in the weeks since he first donned the War Machine armor) so that left Pepper to be the de facto legal authority should something happen, or his illness became worse.

The nurses quickly went through the triage process. Upon checking his temperature, they found it went down 0.2 degrees. That was good, but Tony still wasn't out of the red yet. As soon as they were done, Tony wanted to go to sleep, but the doctor decided not to dawdle and arrived less than a minute after the nurses left. She was a redhead a few shades darker than Pepper who kept her hair tied back in a tight ponytail.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Stark," she greeted as she walked in the room. "I'm Dr. Rawls, head of the emergency department here at West Hills Medical. What brings you here today?"

"Headache," was the only symptom that he felt the need to complain about. Pepper filled in the rest for him.

"He slept in all morning and woke up with a fever of 105," she said. "I'm Virginia Potts, a friend of his."

"Are you the one who brought him here?" Dr. Rawls asked.

"Yes," Pepper said.

"How long has he been feverish for?" the doctor asked. Tony's face fell.

"Since this morning at least," Pepper said. "But I haven't seen him for a few days, so I don't know…" She looked over at Tony expectantly, but he let a couple of beats of silence pass before he spoke up.

"Oh, it's my turn to talk now?" he said. "Sorry, forgot I was in the room." Pepper had that "stop-being-so-uncooperative" look on her face, but the doctor looked more troubled. All he did was talk. If doing that alone was enough to make a doctor worried, then he really must be in a bad place.

"My apologies, Mr. Stark," Dr. Rawls said. "By your estimation, when did the fever start?"

"Midnight last night, maybe sooner?" Tony's brow creased as he tried to remember. "Steve said that I was burning up after I puked last night, but I can't remember when that was."

"You threw up?" Pepper glared at him, but it was mostly out of concern. "You didn't mention that before."

"I haven't thrown up since then," Tony defended. "Well, I mean, my stomach is still messed up, but I don't think I'm going to throw up any time soon."

"By 'messed up,' what do you mean?" Rawls interjected. "Do you feel nauseated, achy, crampy…?"

"Nauseated," Tony said. "Definitely nauseated."

"That's good to know," the doctor said. "So, fever and nausea. Are those the only symptoms or are there any more you'd like to discuss?"

"Headache," instantly came out of Tony's mouth. "I've been getting them on and off for months, but this one just won't let up."

"Okay," Rawls said. "When did the headache start?"

"Week and a half ago, I think?" He'd give her a more definite answer, but the pounding in his head wouldn't let him think further back than half a minute ago.

"That's a long time to have a headache," the doctor said. "Have you seen anyone about this before?"

"No," Pepper answered for Tony again. "And I've been urging him to all week." In all honesty, Tony knew he couldn't defended himself. He ignored his symptoms or just assumed they'd get better on their own. So, he just accepted the angry/concerned "why-don't-you-take-better-care-of-yourself" look Pepper was giving him and waited for the doctor to ask her next question.

"Have you tried taking anything for it?" Tony nodded, but the doctor didn't acknowledge it until he gave a verbal "yes," along with it. "And nothing worked?"

"Anacin kind of worked," Tony said. "But it mostly dulled the symptoms more than anything. I still had a headache, it just wasn't as painful."

"Anacin?" Pepper questioned. "Didn't they stop making that in the 70's?"

"No, it's still around," Rawls said. "It's not what I normally recommend, but it's a pretty damn good pain reliever for headaches and should have wiped it out. The fact that all it did was dull your symptoms, Mr. Stark, concerns me. How long ago was this?"

"Saturday afternoon," Tony said. "It worked most of the day Sunday, too, but on Monday the headache was back at full-force, only now I had a cold on top of it."

"So the headache started before the fever and vomiting," Rawls said. "Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," Tony said.

"Have you had any other symptoms?" Rawls said. "Any involving your respiratory system?"

"I keep feeling like I need to cough, but I try not to do it too much."

"Don't do that," Rawls said. "Your body's trying to get rid of bad bacteria and pathogens. You're only making yourself sicker by trying to suppress the urge to cough. I know it's disgusting, but if you need to cough, please do so. You can cover your cough with your elbow, but please don't hold back." The doctor got closer to him and pulled out her stethoscope. I'm just going to check your breathing, if you don't mind removing your shirt."

Tony sighed. He had no other choice. Slowly, he began unbuttoning his shirt. What lie beneath wasn't exactly pretty, but the scaring was the cost of staying alive. Luckily, most people were too distracted by the Arc Reactor to even notice the rough lines marring his chest. Dr. Rawls was no exception.

"Oh, wow!" Her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung open. Tony waited patiently for her to decide which question to ask first. "This is the thing that keeps you alive, right?" Good choice. Much better than the usual "does it hurt?"

"Yes," Tony said. "It's an electro-magnet powered by a miniature arc reactor. It keeps the shrapnel lodged in my chest from reaching my heart and doing any damage."

"Wow." The redundancy was very much unappreciated. "Well, I was also going to order a chest x-ray, but I can see now that's probably not a good idea. I don't think I'm going to be able to see your lungs, no matter what position you're in. I'll just have to settle for what I can discern from listening to your breathing. She placed the cold, round listening device on his chest. "If you could take a deep breath in for me, please?"

Tony did as the doctor asked. It was a long, tedious process and he could tell that the doctor didn't like what she was hearing. She'd keep the stethoscope on the same spot and ask him to breathe in and out several times. By the end of it, Tony felt incredibly light-headed. However, the doctor wasn't done with him yet. As soon as she finished listening to his lungs, she asked him to open his mouth, so she could look at his throat. Once again, she let out a surprised "wow." Tony was starting to hate that word.

"Well, you definitely have a strep infection. The least I can say is that." Her brown eyes scanned the area inside his mouth with close precision. "Your tonsils are so swollen, I'm surprised you can even still talk."

"Akh," was the only acknowledgement Tony could give while he was holding his mouth open. Truth be told, it hurt like hell to eat, drink, swallow, and speak, but it was nothing he couldn't deal with. He's dealt with worse pain without complaint.

"You also very clearly have a post-nasal drip." Rawls let Tony close his mouth and took a step back from him. "I feel fairly confident in saying that you have an upper-respiratory infection, which led to a strep infection in your throat and a bronchial infection in your lungs. I'm going to need to do a throat swab to confirm the strep but given that we can't do a chest x-ray to confirm the bronchial infection, we're just going to have to hope for the best on that. Your lungs did sound like they were filled with fluid and the post-nasal drip is pretty indicative of where that fluid came from, so I feel confident in giving that diagnosis."

"Good," Pepper said. "All of that is treatable?"

"Oh yes," Rawls said. "Just a few rounds of antibiotics and Mr. Stark should be good to go." Pepper let out a breath of relief and Tony could feel a little bit of the weight lift off his shoulders. "However, I don't think that's all that's going on here." Just like that three times the weight was added. "You said the headache started long before the respiratory symptoms did, right?"

"Right." He could tell he wasn't going to like what she had to say next.

"It's likely you have another condition in addition to these infections," Rawls said. "Speaking of which, have you been more susceptible to viruses and infections than usual?" Taking a moment to think about it, Tony realized he had been sick far more times this year than he had in years past. He had initially chalked it up the palladium poisoning, but maybe something else was going on.

"Yeah," Tony responded hesitantly. "Yes, I have."

He answered every one of the doctor's questions clearly and cooperatively, leading him to reveal that he'd been frequently been suffering from bouts of fatigue, shortness of breath, and dizziness. It also made him notice things he hadn't realized before, such as how much easier he cut and bruised. It wasn't until she asked her last question that Tony felt the rug get pulled out from underneath him.

"When was the last time you were tested for HIV/AIDS?"

"Whoa," flew out of Pepper's mouth before Tony could even process the question. "You don't think that's what's going on here, do you?"

"It's a possibility," Rawls admitted. "There are other possibilities such as an autoimmune disorder, leukemia, blood disorder, but most commonly these symptoms are an indicator of an HIV infection, which is why I have to ask when the last time was you were tested for HIV/AIDS, Mr. Stark?"

"A month ago," Tony said. "I came back clean and I haven't slept with anyone or played with dirty needles since then." Thinking back, the last person Tony could remember sleeping with was Christine Everheart the night before he left for Afghanistan. Ever since then, his sex life's been dead in the water. It made him a little sad to realize he hadn't gotten laid in so long, but he had other things going on, like stopping insane megalomaniacs from killing hundreds upon thousands of innocent people and dying. He seemed to be doing the latter of the two a lot lately.

"Even so, I'd like to do a blood test just to be sure," Rawls said. "I'm also going to order a full platelet count and tests for the most common autoimmune disorders; lupus, pernicious anemia, scleroderma… I really wouldn't worry about the HIV test, though. If you came back clean a month ago and you haven't been engaging in risky behavior since then, you're probably going to come back clean again. Do you have any questions?"

 _Probably._ Tony's mind homed in on that word. _Probably. It's not **certain** that I'm going to come back HIV negative, just **probable**. That's very reassuring. It's **probable** that you're not going crash your car on any given day, but there must be at least one person in the ER downstairs who just did exactly that._

"No," Pepper said after a few moments passed without Tony speaking up. "No, we're good for now." The doctor nodded.

"Alright," Rawls said. "I'll leave you to change into your hospital gown. A nurse should be in to take your blood shortly."

The _click_ of the door shutting was the last sound heard in that room for a good five minutes. Neither Tony nor Pepper moved or said anything. Tony stared off into space. As much as he tried to reassure himself that it was unlikely he had AIDS, but the pit of dread boiling in his stomach kept telling him otherwise. Eventually, he managed to pull himself out of it enough to completely remove his shirt and start to pull his arms through the sleeves of the hospital gown. Pepper turned to look at him, her face stricken with worry and shock.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"No," Tony said sarcastically. "I feel amazing. The only way that could have gone better is if a barbershop quartet delivered the news."

"Tony…" Pepper said. "Look, it's okay to be upset…"

"I'm not upset, I'm pissed," Tony clarified.

"…but don't take it out on me!" Pepper's eyes glimmered with tears. She brought her hand to her forehead. "Oh my God, I didn't think you were serious!" The tears spilled over and Pepper let out a strangled sob. Tony got up, walked across the room, and wrapped his arms around her. She returned his hug in kind. There might not be anything between them anymore, but right now Pepper needed some form of comfort and Tony needed something to physically hold on to while reality warped around him. This was exactly why he didn't tell anyone he was dying the last time. Dying changes everything.

* * *

 **Please, seriously, you can't kill me yet! If you kill me you're not going to get the next chapter and then you'll be forever stuck in limbo never knowing whether or not Tony's okay! Truthfully, I didn't want to end the chapter here. I wanted to end it with a definitive answer, but I just HAD to get dangerously close to my word limit (I try to end chapters before I hit six-thousand words because I know I don't want to read a chapter that long, do you?) so I had no choice but to end it here and continue the rest in a later chapter. I hope no one's too mad at me! ...Yes, I see your cursor hovering over the TOR icon. Don't do it!**

 **Remember kids, don't mess with the deep web. The best-case scenario as to how it ends is that Homeland Security shows up to haul you off to Gitmo. THE BEST-CASE SCENARIO!**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 7/4/18.**


	16. Just a Touch

**First thing's first, I'm not going to see _Ant-Man and the Wasp_ until next Thursday. Please don't put spoilers in your review. Second thing's second, this is another chapter where I teeter very close to the M rating. Not for anything sexual, but for... Well, you'll see.**

* * *

 **Tuesday, August 10th, 2010**

"You've got to be kidding me." Oswin's eyes were heavy with exhaustion and tears were spilling over from the emotional stress of the past twenty-four hours. However, she could clearly see that where Knežević had led her was to a box on the side of the southbound lane of the Pacific Coast Highway on the northern outskirts of Los Angeles. He really wasn't kidding when he said all he had to his name was a box. The box was clearly too small to house **one** person, let alone **two people**. She didn't know how long this had been Knežević's situation for, but she certainly didn't want to find out, and she didn't want to make this her permanent living situation, too. She wished she could go back to her nice house/squatter's den with her nice bed that fell off a mattress truck and all her stolen jewelry. However, that was impossible now that this idiot had blown it all up.

While Knežević was trying to convince her that this wasn't so bad (even trying to squish himself inside the box so there would be enough room for her, too) Oswin was staring off into space. She wondered how in the hell she'd gotten herself into this mess and wished nothing more than to have Nina by her side. Call it a sudden epiphany, but she realized this wasn't where she should be. She'd let her kleptomania get the best of her and now she'd lost practically everything. Her home was gone, all her possessions were gone, she just spent the day outrunning the cops with the Nutty Professor… Seriously, even if she was going to see some sort of profit from whatever "chemical compound" that dim-whit was trying to create, it just wasn't worth it anymore. Having no choice, Oswin turned around and started heading back into the city. This didn't go unnoticed by Knežević.

"Hey," he called after her. "Hey, wait for a second! Where are you going?"

"What do you care?" she asked.

"Look, if the box really is too small, I can find another one!" Knežević climbed out of the box and started chasing after her. "We can be neighbors! I'll stay in the refrigerator box and we'll find another one for you! It'll be like a sitcom! I'll be the conservative family man who's too afraid to change my ways and you'll be my annoying progressive liberal feminist next-door neighbor! It'll be great! I'm sure we could get a good season or two on Fox before they inexplicably cancel us!"

"Oh, screw you," was Oswin's only response.

"Hey," Knežević said. "What the hell's your problem?" Oswin stopped dead in her tracks and turned around to face him. Her hands were balled up into fists and she did nothing to conceal the fact that she'd been crying.

"'What the hell's my problem?'" She repeated. "'What the hell's my problem?' You! You are my problem, dumbass! You destroyed my home and almost killed me! God, why did I agree to help you in the first place?"

"Hey, you got yourself into this mess!" Knežević shouted. "I didn't hold a gun to your head and tell you to rob that place! You did it yourself! Hell, you were stealing shit long before I came across you! Something was bound to happen eventually!"

"Screw you," was all Oswin could offer in response. She turned and began to stomp down the highway without looking back. Knežević didn't try to chase her further. Instead, he just shouted at her retreating form.

"Oh, go screw yourself, you little bitch! I hope the cops catch you, you dumb snake!" He shouted more verbal abuse at her until she was completely out of earshot and sight. She didn't care. She's been called worse. She just wanted to find a nice comfortable alley to rest in and sleep until the next century.

* * *

 **Wednesday, August 11th, 2010**

Sleeping an entire day away wasn't a hard thing to do when you've been awake for fifty hours. However, one might be a little hard-pressed to imagine that it would be comfortable or restful, especially when the only option you had for a bed was a solid rock floor, but Knežević made it work. By his estimate, he woke up around noon the following day and he never felt more refreshed. Although, yes, the fifty hours without sleep probably had something to do with it, but nonetheless, Knežević still felt better than he had in weeks; maybe even in months or years.

Sliding out from inside the cool surface of the rock box, Knežević got up and surveyed his surroundings. He was just outside of Topanga State Park. If he continued down the Pacific Coast Highway going south, he'd come to a set of public restrooms he could wash up in and eventually a Taco Bell a few miles down the road whose dumpster he could raid. He doubted the bar he was working at before would take him back, given that he missed six days of work. No matter how shady that place may be, they'd still probably refuse to let him continue to work there. They probably thought he called the cops on them or something by now and abandoned the place. That would be the smart move.

Glancing down and kicking a pebble on the ground as hard as he could, Knežević realized he was completely and utterly screwed. He had no job, no money, no solid place to live, and now the police were after him. He'd be surprised if he'd even be allowed to breathe the same air as Audrey and Stephanie again, never mind be in the same room as them. He brought his hands to his face and thought about what he could possibly do. All he had to his name was a box made of solid rock. He doubted Audrey could even buy a pen from the dollar store for all that was worth, let alone pay for college.

 _Wait, solid rock?_ The questioning caused Knežević to pause in his self-pity party. _I thought that box was cardboard._

Turning around to look back at the box, Knežević was stunned by the appearance of the box he slept in the night before. What was once cardboard being now a large coffin-like stone that was yellow in color? In attempting to lift it up, Knežević found that the "box" was much denser and heavier than the cardboard version. Putting his hands on his hips, Knežević was completely stumped. There was no logical explanation for the change. That was until his shorts started changing to solid stone around him.

"What the hell," he found himself exclaiming. He rushed to slip the shorts off him, but gravity ended up doing all the work for him. The shorts hit the ground, staying in their solid shape, not even cracking. Thankfully, he had remembered to wear underwear. Stepping out of his new shorts sculpture, Knežević looked around for an explanation for what might have caused this. However, nothing immediately came to him. The only thing that had even touched the shorts were his hands…

 _My hands!_ The realization hit him almost as hard as the semi-truck he stumbled in front of would have. Quickly stepping out of the road, Knežević quickly found a rock in the dirt of the gutter and picked it up. Holding it in his fingertips did absolutely nothing. Moving the rock to his palm caused it to change from a black piece of loose asphalt to a smother, brownish-colored rock. Amazed, Knežević ran down the road and touched the first street sign he saw. The pole, which was the part that he physically touched changed from gray metal to a yellow-green colored stone. The actual sign, which he didn't touch remained as it was. It was astounding.

Continuing to run up the road and touch whatever he could, Knežević found that pretty much anything he touched with the dead center of his palm would turn to stone, the only exception being his own body. As soon as his palm contacted the object, it would slowly start to change form, becoming one of a multitude of shades he seemed to be able to produce. The transformation process would start at the point of contact and continue until the entire object was consumed. If an object was made from multiple parts, only the part he touched would turn to stone. The rest of the object would remain intact. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was pure brilliance!

Almost automatically, Knežević knew exactly what he needed to do. Forget the pipe-dream of becoming a billionaire! He was going to do what he should have done the second he got out of prison; take his girls back, by force if necessary, and he knew exactly the place to start.

* * *

The Taco Bell was surprisingly dead for a Wednesday afternoon. Knežević was expecting to see at least one overweight mother ignoring her children as they ran amuck and disturbed the other customers, but that didn't seem to be the case. As far as he could tell, not a single soul was inside that restaurant. He was starting to wonder if the place was abandoned when a young black woman stepped in from the back. Her eyes were heavy, and her posture made it clear that she wanted to be anywhere but there, preferably her bed. She was perfect.

"Welcome to Taco Bell," she greeted wearily. "Have you tried our Two-Dollar Meal Deals?"

"No," Knežević said. "I was hoping to get the five-finger discount instead." The woman eyed him with dazed confusion, but the look quickly snapped to fearful alertness when he reached over the counter and grabbed her arm.

"What the hell?" She freed her arm from his grasp and stumbled backward, however it was too late. The process had already begun. Directly in the spot where Knežević had touched her arm, a pale-yellow stone had appeared. It quickly began to spread, consuming her wrist and hand, and moving up her arm at a remarkable speed. She screamed, but it was pointless. She was the only one on duty and there were no customers. No one could hear her, and no one could help her.

Just mere moments after coming into physical contact with Knežević, the woman's skin was entirely turned to stone. The only things that remained untouched were her clothes, her hair, her fingernails, and her eyes. The eyes were the worst part, darting around with panic and fear. Knežević observed her for several minutes, watching how her body reacted to the change. Eventually, her eyes stopped moving and glazed over. By his guess, the lining of her respiratory tract became covered by the sheet of stone as well. Because of that, her lungs couldn't expand, and she couldn't breathe, effectively suffocating her to death. Knežević clicked his tongue in response.

"Damn shame," he said. "I was hoping I'd be wrong, but this works, too."

He hopped over the counter and began to scour the kitchen. He came across a shelf full of pre-made, re-heated, and wrapped tacos. Picking one up by the wrapper, he watched as the thin sheet of paper changed to a clear shell of stone. The taco, however, remained untouched. Grinning, Knežević began eating the greasy piece of cheap Tex-Mex, holding it by and biting around the stone.

Slowly, he began to saunter out of the restaurant when he stopped dead in his tracks. Turning around, Knežević looked at the stone corpse. He glanced down at her name tag and smiled.

"Well, Louise," he said, looking her directly in her glazed-over eyes. "I'm sorry you had to meet your end like this but know that your death was not in vain. It is for a worthy cause."

With that, he took a bite out of his taco, turned, and exited the restaurant. He didn't call the police about the body. He just left her there as a surprise for the next person who walked in.

* * *

It wasn't hard to find where she lived. In the past twelve years, Lorraine Wilburn hadn't moved once. A dumb move on her part, given that she feared for her nieces' safety should they meet their formerly incarcerated father, but nonetheless Knežević was thankful that she made it. After all, it made finding Audrey and Stephanie **that** much easier.

No one was home when he got there, so he sat on the front steps and waited for someone to come back. It took a while, but eventually, a blue Nisan pulled up in the driveway and Lorraine stepped out of the car. He looked exactly how he imagined Joyce would look at this age, but skinnier, angrier, and with longer hair. He got up and started to approach her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she shouted. "Leave! The girls don't want to see you!"

"Yeah," Knežević said. "Like I actually believe that bull crap!"

"I'm only going to tell you this once, Vasyl!" She stopped in front of him with hands on her hips and fury in her eyes. "Leave now or I'm calling the police! I went easy on you before, but this is a step too far!"

"This?" he laughed. "This is a step too far? No, keeping my daughters from me was a step too far! I'm their father! I have a right to see them!"

"Not after you killed Joyce!" Lorraine's voice broke as a sob ripped through her. She was able to maintain the volume, though. "Not after you took their mother away from them! I'll never let you have them, especially when you're in my front yard screaming at me in your **underwear**!" Knežević let out an aggravated sigh.

"Well, Lorraine," he said. "It seems you've left me with no other choice. He lunged forward and grabbed her exposed forearm. She palmed him on the nose to knock him back but little did she know, it was already too late. Once she got away from him, she noticed that her entire left arm was covered in stone and it was spreading to her body. All she could do was scream while Knežević watched with a smirk on his face. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this. My only regret is that I'm taking away one of the few minds in this world that still remembers Joyce."

The shock and horror remained in Lorraine's eyes until they eventually glazed over and died out. Knežević moved the body to the backyard, mostly because he honestly didn't think he could pass it off as modern art if the neighbors got suspicious and called the cops.

* * *

For hours Knežević waited for Audrey and Stephanie to come home. In that time, he broke into Lorraine's house by throwing a rock through a window, made himself a mac and cheese TV dinner without any of it turning to stone (though, there were some close calls), and breaking the remote by using his whole hand to pick it up accidentally. As annoyed as he was, he tried to make himself accept that this was something he had to get used to. He didn't know how this happened (but he'd put a wager on the explosion having something to do with it) so he no way to fix it. This was life now. He had to get used to it.

It wasn't until around seven-thirty that he finally saw headlights pulling into the driveway. Unsure of who it was, Knežević hid behind the couch. If it was Audrey and Stephanie, then it'd be a nice surprise for them. If it was anyone else, he'd have a nice surprise for them.

After a few moments, Knežević heard the distinct click of the front door unlocking. His heart leaped as the door opened, the lights flipped on, and two sets of footsteps walked across the hardwood floor.

 _It's them!_ Knežević could feel his soul buzzing with joy. _They've come back to me!_

"Auntie!" The sound of his older daughter's voice was like music to Knežević's ears. The last time he had heard her, she was begging to police to let her daddy go as he was led into the back of a police car. Although it had matured through age and experience, it was still undoubtedly the same voice.

 _My little girl is all grown-up!_

"Auntie!" Audrey continued to call. "Where are you? You forgot to pick us up at church camp! Deacon Whalen had to give us a ride back home! Auntie! Auntie!"

Audrey walked through the house, continuing to call for her aunt. It was useless and Knežević knew that, but he wasn't going to reveal himself to the girls just yet. The moment didn't feel right. Eventually, Audrey came back downstairs heaving a heavy sigh.

"Is Auntie okay?" a voice Knežević hadn't heard use proper words before asking. He could feel his heart start to soar all over again.

 _My Stephanie can speak! This is amazing! I never imagined a voice sounding so lovely!_

"I don't know," Audrey responded. "She's not here, but her car is in the driveway…"

"Maybe she went to one of the neighbor's houses?" Stephanie suggested.

"I don't think so," Audrey said. "You saw the car! The door was wide open and there were groceries in the back! This is just too weird! I'm calling the police!"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Slowly, Knežević got up from behind the couch. His eyes took in the sight of his two young daughters. They were both the spitting image of their mother with their dark skin and curly hair. Audrey's eyes were wide with shock and recognition while Stephanie's eyes narrowed in confusion. Heartbreak hit him hard. His own daughter didn't even recognize him. It almost brought tears to his eyes, but relief quickly came in the sound of Audrey's voice.

"Dad?" He smiled. At least Audrey recognized him. However, he quickly realized that she wasn't as happy to see him as he was to see her. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?" Hurt was creeping up in his voice. "I'm here to rescue you; both of you!"

"Rescue us?" Audrey questioned. "From what? Where's Auntie?"

"I'm scared!" Stephanie ran over to her older sister and wrapped her arms around her waist.

"Shh…" Knežević hushed. "Don't worry. You're Aunt Lorraine is fine. She's in a better place."

"My God…" Audrey said in a soft tone filled with horror. Stephanie buried her face in her sister's side and sobbed long and hard.

"No, no!" Knežević stepped closer to the girls. Audrey put her arm around her sister and pulled her back. "It's not like that! She was trying to keep you from me, but now we can be together as the family we should be!"

"She was trying to keep us away from you because you killed Mom!" Silence permeated the room.

"That's not true," Knežević asserted. "Your mother's death was an accident."

"Yeah," Audrey said. "An accidental explosion you caused!"

"Audrey," Knežević pleaded. He got right in front of her and took her hand. "You have to understand…" He didn't get further than that before he heard a loud, sharp scream. Seeing the fear in his daughter's eyes as she glanced down at her hand…

 _Her hand!_ Looking down in horror, Knežević saw that in the rush of emotion he had grabbed Audrey's hand. He let it go, but it was too late. The stone was already crawling up her arm. He grabbed Stephanie to pull her back, but that proved to be another fatal error. When he grabbed her, he didn't realize that she was wearing a spaghetti-strap tank top and his palm encountered her bare skin.

Screaming. That was the only sound that could be heard in that house, screaming. Then, dead silence.

Knežević dropped to his knees. His throat was raw, and his eyes were damp with tears. Only two thoughts ran through his mind.

 _How could I do this?_

 _Someone's got to pay!_

* * *

 **Well, that wasn't completely disturbing. To be honest, the biggest thing here is that I hope no one's still pissed at me for the last chapter or pissed that I didn't immediately follow up on what happened the last chapter. Sorry, for some reason my brain wouldn't let me change the plan. This HAD to be chapter sixteen for reasons I don't fully understand myself and I'm the person writing it. Anyways, don't be shy. Leave a comment or a review if you liked this chapter!**

 **Remember kids, you can show all the violence and gore you want as long as nobody gets naked.**

* * *

 **Originally uploaded to FFN on 7/6/18.**


	17. Be Negative

**And now the moment you've all been waiting for...**

* * *

 **Thursday, August 12th, 2010**

"Hey, what's today's date?" That first question didn't set off any red flags for Steve. In fact, it was a totally normal question that someone filling out various forms would ask. However, Steve had no idea what the date was. In fact, as far as his internal clock was concerned, it was Wednesday, February 8th, 1945. He knew that was spectacularly wrong, but his brain still hadn't fully adjusted to the fact that sixty-five years had passed him by in less than the time it takes to blink your eyes.

"No idea," he answered honestly.

"What's your personal care provider?"

"My what?" That one seemed strange, but it was the future, so it could be a completely normal question.

"Your insurance," she clarified. "Who do you have for insurance?"

"I… Don't think I have insurance?" He wasn't entirely sure on that. Supposedly the Army was going to take care of all his medical expenses for the rest of his life, but that might not still stand. After all, he was still technically considered legally dead.

"Uninsured," she commented. "Nice. What's your last name?"

"What's your first name?" Steve countered.

"Lara," Conroy provided without missing a beat. "You're not my boss, so feel free to call me that. Last name?"

"Wait, are you filling out my information on that form?" Steve raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that supposed to be for Tony?"

"It is," Lara said. "And I am filling out Tony's information. …Well, except for his insurance information and social security number. I don't know that. I'm just asking you the questions on this form because how else are you supposed to invasively get to know someone?" Steve didn't have a response to that. "Last name?"

"Rogers." It was Lara's turn to raise her eyebrow.

"Seriously?" she said. "You're going to go with that?"

"What do you mean?" Steve questioned. Lara let out an aggravated sigh.

"Fine," she said. "Don't tell me then."

Steve gave her a quizzical look, but it was washed away when he heard the clicking of high-heels coming down the hall. Turning to look behind him, he could see Pepper coming towards the waiting area. He felt an instant feeling of dread upon seeing her. Even though he didn't know her at all, he could tell by her crossed arms and the downward-directed gaze that something was wrong. Quickly, he stood to meet her, and Lara did so as well.

"How'd it go?" Lara asked. Pepper bit her lip and shook her head. "Not good?"

"No," Pepper confirmed. "They're not sure what's wrong with him yet. They need to run a few tests."

"Okay," Lara said. "Is it alright if I go in and see him? There are a few questions on this form I don't know the answers to."

"Yeah, sure," Pepper said. "Go ahead." Lara took off in the direction Pepper just came from. Steve was going to follow her, but Pepper caught him by the arm. "Um, Steve, is it alright if I talk to you for a second?" Steve tilted his head a furrowed his brow but nodded nonetheless. Pepper took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Listen, I'm sorry I gave you the third-degree earlier. It was nothing personal, just a stressful situation and I didn't know who you were or your intentions. That's all. No hard feelings?"

"Apology accepted," Steve said. "Is that all?"

"Uh, no." Pepper's hand moved to adjust a non-existent loose piece of hair. "Actually, could you take a seat? You might want to be sitting down for this."

Steve's eyes narrowed a slight bit more, but he complied, sitting back down in his seat. Pepper moved to sit in the seat Lara vacated across from him. She crossed her legs, tightly clasped her hands together and her shoulders were tense, and she contemplated what she was going to say. The omnificence of it was too much for Steve to bear. He was just about to break and ask what was wrong with Tony when she finally found the words to say.

"This is going to sound really personal, but I'm only asking this for both yours and Tony's safety. Whatever happened between you two is between you two. I'm not asking for details, I just need to ask this to ensure you're both okay. Do you understand?" Steve tightened his lips, but once again nodded. He didn't like where this was going, but his only option was to sit there and let Pepper ask the question. "Did you two do anything last night?"

Steve's face blanched and all the air disappeared from his lungs. His eyes remained frozen on Pepper. Swallowing hard, he tried to get his erratic heartbeat under control.

"What?" He hoped he misheard her, but deep in his gut, he knew he hadn't. "What do you mean?" Pepper brought a hand to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. Breathing deeply, she forced herself to continue the conversation, albeit with a pained expression on her face.

"It's alright if you're not out," she said. "I promise, I won't tell anyone. I just need to know if anything happened because if something did and Tony didn't remember it…" Hearing the deep, grim tone in the way Pepper trailed off, Steve pushed his fear aside and looked at Pepper dead-on.

"No," he asserted. "Nothing happened last night. Tony asked me to stay with him and that's what I did. We slept in the same bed and that's all." Pepper let out a breath that she must have been holding.

"Oh thank God," she said as her posture loosened up. "I was really scared there for a second."

"Why?" Steve questioned. "What's wrong with Tony?"

"We're not sure yet," she admitted. "The doctor still needs to do a few tests. I just wanted to make sure you guys didn't do anything that would mess up the test results." Steve didn't believe that the answer was the full truth, but he accepted it for now. He could ask Tony about it later.

"Is he alright to see people?" Steve asked, trying not to sound desperate. You had to cut him some slack, though. When someone announces they're dying, people tend to assume the worst. Luckily for Steve, Pepper nodded.

"He should be fine," she said. "Come on, I'll show you where he's at."

Pepper got up and Steve followed her down the hall to Tony's room. Upon entering, Steve saw Lara playing with her small, black device again while Tony was writing his information down on the forms Lara had been filling out earlier. Tony glanced up from the clipboard and his and Steve's eyes connected. Steve pushed away from the fluttering feeling an anxiety that stirred up and just reveled in the relief that Tony was okay. That moment didn't last though as Lara spoke up, capturing everyone's attention.

"Alright," she said. "According to Wikipedia, every social security number issued in the state of New York starts with any number between 050-134. So, your guess of 'five' was close, but not really."

"What's this about?" Pepper asked.

"Conroy's trying to guess my social security number," Tony said.

"Only because he doesn't know it," Lara defended. "Besides, I've only got it narrowed down to sixty-four thousand possibilities if I did the math right, so…" Pepper huffed in annoyance.

"You still don't know that?" she asked as she walked over and plucked the clipboard from Tony's hands.

"I've changed it so many times," Tony said. "And you honestly can't expect me to remember a number that long."

"What's the square root of pi?" Tony narrowed his eyes at Pepper.

"Point taken," he said.

"Alright," Pepper said as she finished scanning the page. "Most of this is correct, but under personal care provider you put 'Tony Stark' and under policy number you put 'same as social security number.'"

"Yeah," Tony said. "Well, it's kind of the truth." Pepper rolled her eyes and started walking towards the door.

"I'm going to the nurse's station to get a clean form. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm good for the moment." Pepper nodded and headed down the hall. Tony's face dropped the second she was out of earshot. "I still haven't told her my insurance dropped me for medically experimenting on myself. That's going to be a fun conversation."

"They dropped you for that?" Lara questioned. "Isn't that illegal?"

"Yes," Tony said. "Yes, it is. I have a lawyer working on that though, so don't worry about it."

"What exactly did they hold objection with?" Lara asked.

"The Arc Reactor," Tony said. "They consider it an unnecessary health risk."

"Unnecessary? It's keeping you alive!" Lara shook her head. "They're crazy if they're not going to cover you because of that."

"It's alright for now, though," Tony said. "I have more than enough money to pay for my own medical expenses. It's no big deal.

"True enough," Lara admitted before glancing around the room and then back at Tony. "So, do you need me to hang around here or do you want me to go?"

"Actually, could you run an errand for me really quick?" Tony asked.

"Sure," Lara said. "What do you need?"

"You still have that spare key you stole, right?"

"You heard that?" Tony nodded with a none-too-pleased look on his face. "Yes."

"Good. I left my phone in my bedroom. Can you go back and grab it for me and get a change of clothes."

"But I'd have to…" Lara stopped mid-complaint and shook her head. "Whatever never mind. Is there anything else you need?"

"Nope," Tony said, popping the "p." "As long as I get my phone, I'll have everything I need."

"Good," Lara said as she readjusted the strap on her messenger bag. "I'll get going, then. Be right back." Then she left. Just like that, Steve and Tony were left alone in the room together.

 _Crap,_ Steve thought. _This is not good._ He felt filled to the bone with nothing but nervous energy. No matter how many deep breaths he took, he couldn't seem to contain it at all. His mind kept running through anxious thoughts and terrifying possibilities, all of which seemed to go by so fast that he could barely process them all. It was like he was freefalling through a bottomless pit; he wanted nothing more than for the ground to come and meet up with him and stop his endless decent. He felt his stomach lurch in an unpleasant manner.

"Hey, Steve." He looked up and saw Tony raising an eyebrow at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Steve rubbed at the nape of his neck. "I'm fine." Tony's eyes narrowed, and his brow creased, but he nodded, accepting the answer anyways.

"Alright," he said. "Why don't you take a seat? You don't look too comfortable standing over there by the door."

Steve gave a small nod, walked over to the chair by Tony's bedside, and sat down. The chair was more comfortable that he was expecting but found that he couldn't quite relax into it. Looking at Tony, he made eye contact with the other man who was looking at him through heavy eyelashes and was running his tongue over his top lip. For a moment, the sight was enough to ease his mind, but then the same avalanche of worried thoughts came crashing down.

 _Why do I keep feeling like this? Why does he always look at me like that? He shouldn't. Am I imagining this? Is my small amount of attraction towards Tony turning into a full-blown obsession where I'm convinced that he might be attracted to me as well? Am I going insane? Has Tony noticed? Oh God, that girl – Pepper – asked me point-blank if I had done anything with Tony the night before! She knows! How does she know? She said she wouldn't tell anyone, but I don't know if I can take her word for it! What about Tony? Is he going to be locked away to suffer for the rest of his life? I could never forgive myself if that happened!_

"Steve." He broke out of his mental anguish and looked at Tony again. He had rolled over on his side, so he was facing Steve and his lips were tight with concern. "Are you okay? You seemed like you were a million miles away there for a second."

 _More like I was going at a million miles-per-second._ Steve looked down and away, bowing his head. He felt his chest tightening and his mouth becoming dry. He had no response he could give. Not without revealing that he had homosexual tendencies and was attracted to Tony. However, the anxiety was building in his chest and he couldn't take it anymore. He had to do something to relieve it; to keep his fears from sucking him down completely. He looked back up at Tony. If just getting one worry off his chest would ease some of the burdens, then he wouldn't hesitate to take the chance.

"That redheaded woman, Pepper," Steve said as he looked Tony in the eye. "She wouldn't reveal something private about somebody else if she figured it out for herself, would she?" Tony's brow furrowed.

"What are you talking about?" Steve took a deep breath before saying the next part.

"She asked me if we **did anything** last night," he said. "Specifically, anything you wouldn't remember."

"Okay." Tony eyed him oddly. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her the truth," Steve said. "Nothing happened."

"Okay," Tony said again. "So, what's the problem?"

"I think…" Steve swallowed hard. "I think she thinks for some reason that we were **together,** and she'll tell someone…"

"Oh." Tony visibly relaxed. "Don't worry about that. Pepper wouldn't tell a soul, not with the way the media goes after me. She's probably just asking because there's a small concern with my health right now. That's all."

"She thinks I might be… That you'd…" Steve shook his head and looked down, clasping his wrist in the opposite hand. He couldn't do it. He couldn't say it.

"Steve," Tony said. His hand reached out to give Steve a comforting touch, but he couldn't quite reach from his position in the hospital bed, so he just settled for brushing the tips of his fingers over the top of Steve's hair instead. "It's alright. I know." Steve's veins ran cold.

"Know what?" he said, his voice quivering.

"I know you like boys and girls." Steve's head snapped up and his eyes went wide. Terror was too calm of a word to describe what he was feeling. "It's alright. Believe me, I am the last person on Earth who would publicly out you. That's not something I'd wish upon anyone." Steve's heart was pounding, and his mind couldn't comprehend anything that was happening.

"How…" He struggled to force the words out. "How do you know that?"

"Aunt Peggy told me." Just like that, all the air drained from the room. That had to be a lie. It couldn't be his Peggy. She would never betray him like that.

"Peggy," Steve repeated. He needed the confirmation. "Peggy Carter, she's the one who told you?"

"Yes," A dagger went through Steve's heart. Peggy promised never to tell another soul for as long as she lived, and yet here was Tony claiming that Peggy revealed that deeply-held secret to him. Steve's emotions went haywire. He didn't know what to think or say and he wanted nothing more than to hit something. (He still had enough sense not to get himself kicked out of the hospital for random acts of violence against medical equipment, though.) He searched for his words for a good long time before speaking up.

"Why?" he questioned. "Why would she tell you that?"

"I was in a bad place and I needed to hear it," Tony said. "That's the only reason why she told me."

Things lapsed into tense silence again. Steve could feel Tony's eyes on him, but Steve directed his gaze anywhere but in Tony's direction. Everything stung.

 _Why? Why would she reveal that to anyone? What sort of "bad place" could Tony have been in where Peggy would feel it necessary to tell him that?_ Steve tried to come up with a reasonable explanation, but all he found was a whole lot of nothing. His emotions were running higher and faster than he had ever experienced before. It felt like the world was closing in on him. He needed to get away. It was becoming too much.

"Steve," Tony said. Steve stood up before he could question him further.

"I need some air," was all Steve said before exiting the room.

He moved at a fast-paced walk down four flights of stairs and out the main entrance to the parking lot. He didn't go farther than that. He just walked over to the first grass-barrier between parking sections and sat down.

He didn't cry, not because he didn't want to, or he couldn't, but because he just didn't feel like it. He was too scared to cry. That was a surreal feeling. Worst of all, he didn't know how to make it go away. So, he did the only thing he could think to do, sit and take deep breaths of the fresh(ish) air.

 _Just breathe, Steve,_ he could hear a familiar, comforting voice say in the back of his mind. _You can do that for me, right? Nice and easy, in and out, there you go…_

* * *

A pang of guilt ran through Tony as he watched Steve rush out of the room. He shouldn't have said anything, that much was clear, but Steve had been very apparently distressed. He didn't mean to push him. He just didn't want to see him that upset.

He didn't have much time to beat himself up over it. A few moments later a nurse came in to take a throat culture and some blood. The culture wasn't a problem but drawing the blood could have gone smoother. It took six times for the nurse to find a vein. He normally didn't mind needles but getting stabbed by one over and over was not a pleasant experience. He was ever so thankful when the nurse announced that she had what she needed, and the test results would be back in a couple of hours. At that point, he was left alone to contemplate his fate.

Tony wasn't going to lie, he was scared that the HIV test was going to come back positive. The rational part of his brain was trying to argue that he had never taken intravenous drugs from anyone besides a doctor and he hadn't had sex in over a year. However, he still had that niggling little doubt in the back of his mind. What if it did come back positive? What if all the tests he took prior to this were wrong. It was a small chance, but with something as serious as AIDS involved, the small chances were always the scary ones.

Pepper was the first one to return to the room, none too pleased with having to find out from his former insurance provider that his policy was canceled. It was just as fun as Tony imagined. Technically, it wasn't really a secret, Tony just plain forgot to tell her. It didn't matter, though. Pepper was still angry.

"Listen," Tony said. "I didn't mean to keep that from you."

"Didn't mean to?" Pepper said. "Tony, all you've done for the past year is keep things from me! First, you go flying around in a metal suit, nearly getting yourself killed how many times before I caught you getting out of that thing? Then the Arc Reactor almost kills you and you tell no one. Now your insurance company cancels you and you might still die after all…" Pepper brought a hand to her mouth and looked down. Tony studied her with concern.

"Pep," he said hesitantly.

"What if this is real?" she asked abruptly. "What if the test comes back positive? What if this time, you really do die?"

"I won't die," Tony tried to reassure himself and Pepper. "Not now. Not from this."

"You don't know that," Pepper said. "Tony, when I saw you this morning, you looked like you were on your deathbed and to hear that doctor suggest that you might have AIDS… Tony, you're still my friend. I don't want to lose you." Tony's expression softened.

"You're not going to lose me," Tony assured. "Even if I have AIDS, it's not the end. I mean, it's possible to live for a long time with the disease now. Just look at Magic Johnson. He's had AIDS for twenty years and he's still alive."

"Glad to see you're taking this well," Pepper said.

"I'm not," Tony admitted. "I'm scared out of my mind. I'm just not trying to get bogged down by the 'what ifs.'" That last part was a lie and Tony mentally kicked himself for lying to Pepper again. However, it was a lie she needed to hear, so he couldn't feel too bad about it. "Now I know you're upset and scared right now, but can we please talk about something else? Anything else? I don't really want to give too much thought to my eventual demise right now." Pepper raised her head and nodded, pulling herself together.

"Understandable," she said. "So, if you want to talk about something else, why don't you tell me who Steve is?"

A mixture of thoughts and emotions were stirred up in Tony's mind at the question. Most of them were good, but he wasn't sure what to tell Pepper. After all, he couldn't just say "oh, Steve? It's no big deal, really. He's just the World War II Army Hero Captain America. Yes, I know he's supposed to be dead. Turns out he just spent the last sixty-five years frozen in a block of ice until S.H.I.E.L.D. came across and unfroze him. That's why they called me in on Saturday. They needed some of my father's files to make sure they didn't accidentally kill him as he thawed out. I also think he's pretty good looking and I can't stop myself from smiling when I so much as glance at him. Is that creepy?" Yeah, that would get him sent to the happy home with trees and flowers and chirping birds and basket weavers who sit and smile and twiddle their thumbs and toes for sure.

The best he could offer was a version of the truth with key details missing. Although his resolution not to lie to Pepper had been broken and well stomped-on at this point, it still was something that Tony wanted to hold on to.

"I met him at S.H.I.E.L.D. last Saturday." Pepper raised an eyebrow. "We got to talking and since then I haven't been able to get him off my mind. He called me up on Tuesday and the next thing I knew I was making plans to go out with him. That's why I wasn't at work yesterday. I was flying to New York to see him."

"That's all?" she questioned.

"I didn't sleep with him if that's what you're asking," Tony said. "I mean, I slept **with** him in the same bed, but it wasn't like that." Surprisingly, Pepper laughed.

"I know, Tony," she said. "Steve already told me as much."

"Yeah, about that," Tony said. "I think you might have scared him earlier when you questioned him about our involvement." Pepper gave him a look that said, "what do you mean?" "I think he's scared that you're going to out him."

"I told him I wouldn't," she said. "I just wanted to know because they're doing an **HIV test**. If something happened, then you were both at risk."

"I know," Tony said. "And I told him that, but he just kept looking so freaked and I might have said something I shouldn't have…"

"What?" Pepper asked.

"I might have said…" Tony stopped short when he caught sight of a familiar figure standing in the doorway. "Steve." The man in question gave a nod of acknowledgment and shifted uncomfortably, leaning against the door.

"Hi," he said. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure," Tony exchanged a look with Pepper, who stepped out of the way, so Steve could get by. "Have a seat." He gestured to the chair that Steve had previously occupied. Steve made his way over there and sat down. Pepper, meanwhile, went to the other side of Tony's bed and sat down in the other available chair.

"Listen," Steve said. "I'm sorry I ran out of the room. I just… I needed fresh air. I hope I didn't upset you."

"No, you didn't," Tony said. "Don't worry about it."

"I should be apologizing to you Steve," Pepper said. "I didn't mean to scare you with the questions I was asking. I just wanted to make sure that you and Tony were safe."

"No need," Steve said. "You were looking out for Tony. I understand. Besides, I'm not upset with either of you."

"That's good to know," Tony said. "But are you okay?"

Steve's eyes darted around the room. Just with that simple action alone, Tony knew that he wasn't alright. Steve was searching the room, trying to find an answer that would placate them. However, he wouldn't find it. Tony knew that all too well.

Luckily, Steve was saved by the bell – or rather Dr. Rawls returning to the room. She gently knocked on the wood of the door before taking a step inside.

"Sorry," she said. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No," Tony shifted so he was sitting up. "You're good."

"Have the test results come back yet?" Pepper asked.

"Yes," Rawls said. Tony began to mentally prepare himself for the worst. "The bad news is that the strep test came back positive. We'll get you on a round of antibiotics to treat that right away." Tony nodded, urging her to get on with it. "The good news is that the HIV test came back negative." Tony and Pepper let out simultaneous breaths of relief with Tony falling back against the pillows, a broad grin on his face.

"Oh thank God!" He turned to look at Pepper on his right. She looked like she was breathing much easier now that the weight of that worry was off her shoulders. Turning to his left, Tony saw that Steve was just plain confused.

"What does that mean?" he asked. "It's good, right?"

"Yes," Tony said, only just then realizing that Steve hadn't been around for the AIDS epidemic in the 80's/90's. "Yes, that's very good."

"I wouldn't start celebrating just yet, Mr. Stark," Rawls said. "You're not quite out of the woods." Tony felt his chest freeze as he turned his eyes back to the doctor. "Further examination of the blood sample you provided us with revealed some alarming results." She placed a sheet of paper down on the tray table in front of him and pointed at the picture on the left side of the page. "These are an example of normal healthy red blood cells. Notice how most of them maintain a rigid, round shape." Tony nodded and she moved her finger to the image on the right side of the page. This one was notably captioned with the labels "Subject: STARK, A. E." and the date. "This is an image of a sample of your blood. Notice anything different?"

Oh yes, Tony noticed as soon as she set the paper down in front of him. There were some cells that maintained the normal, rigid, round look, but the majority were elongated and amorphous in shape. He almost immediately knew what this was.

"I'm anemic," he stated aloud for the class.

"Yes," Dr. Rawls confirmed. "However, your records show that you weren't anemic before and you have no history of anemia of any sort in your family. This leads me to believe you have acquired aplastic anemia. This can happen in a number of ways, notable exposure to certain toxins or nuclear radiation."

"Certain toxins?" Pepper questioned. "Such as what?"

"Quite a few," Rawls said. "Certain pesticides, arsenic, benzene…"

"Palladium exposure," Tony said. "would that do it?"

"Well, it'd have to be large doses of palladium over a prolonged period of time," Rawls speculated. "But I suppose it is possible. Why? Are you saying you've been exposed to large amounts of palladium?"

"Enough to be poisoned by it," Tony said.

"That would do it," the doctor said. "Luckily, the condition is highly treatable. All we'd have to do is a bone marrow transplant and a couple of blood transfusions and you should be all set."

"Oh." Tony's voice took on an unusual quality. "Are there any other treatment options."

"Well, given that you appear to have a more severe case," Rawls said. "The only other method of treatment would be managing the symptoms, which would be incredibly difficult. Why? Is there a problem?"

"My blood type is B- and I don't have any living blood relatives," Tony said. "Finding a compatible donor is going to be difficult."

"Oh," Rawls said. "Well, the B- blood type isn't as rare as you'd think. I'm sure one of your friends here would be a compatible match."

"My blood type is AB+," Pepper said.

"A+," Steve said when Rawls looked at him. "And I can't give blood anyway."

"Okay," Rawls said. "Well, I'm handing this case over to Dr. Holcomb. If anyone can find you a match, it's her."

The small "thank you" Pepper gave were the only words anyone said as Rawls left the room. It was quiet for a moment. On the positive side, at least Tony didn't have an incurable, life-threatening illness. On the negative side…

Pepper suddenly stood up and looked at Tony.

"I'm going to make a few phone calls," she said. "You two going to be fine here on your own?"

"Yeah, we'll be fine." Pepper nodded and promptly left, disappearing down the halls.

Despite his assurance, being alone in the room with Steve was easier said than done. He was just so tense and Tony knew it was because of Peggy telling him Steve was bi. He knew he had nothing to apologize for – Peggy was the one who broke Steve's trust, apparently, not him – but he didn't know how to proceed from here. He was just about to take a shot in the dark and say something, but his attention was diverted when a knock was heard from the doorway. Immediately he turned to see a man wearing a uniform emblemized with Los Angeles County Sherriff's Department patches.

 _Oh, this is just great…_ Tony took a deep breath before saying, "come in officer."

"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Stark," The officer said.

"It's alright, I should have expected this to happen sooner or later." The officer looked perplexed until Tony said, "who leaked it to the press that I'm here?"

"Uh, no one sir, as of yet," the officer said. "This is about a different matter. We received a call this afternoon from a Miss Lara Conroy claiming that she was an employee of yours and that she walked into your house to find it ransacked." Tony's eyes lit up like Christmas lights. "If you don't mind, we'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Yeah," Tony said. "So would I."

* * *

 **Okay, I am fully expecting my reviews to go something like this: "** **Will you stop it with that? What part of this is funny to you?** **What part of being infected with a deadly disease do you find funny?** **This isn't funny! AIDS isn't funny! Dying isn't funny, so shut the fuck up!** **Knock it off! Right now! This isn't funny! At all!" If it makes you feel better, you can take me out on Stark's Pond in a rowboat and try to kill me with a wiffleball bat.**

 **Remember kids, I'm so glad Stan and Kyle aren't here! I hate those guys, seriously!**

* * *

 **Originally uploaded to FFN on 7/11/18.**


	18. Twisted

**You better enjoy this chapter, 'cause it's the last one you're getting until September.**

* * *

 **Wednesday, August 11th, 2010**

There is an old Latin proverb that says, "revenge is a confession of pain." For Knežević, it was more than just a confession; it was a declaration of sheer agony. Everything and everyone was to blame for the deaths of his daughters. If he never got laid off, he wouldn't have been working with dangerous chemicals in the first place. If his busybody neighbors didn't call the police and tell them they thought he was dealing drugs, then DSS never would have taken the girls away and he never would have gone to jail. If Lorraine hadn't kept his kids from him, he wouldn't have sunk to such desperate measures to try to get them back. If he hadn't met Oswin, then he wouldn't have gone so far as to steal chemicals from freaking Iron Man.

Speaking of Tony Stark, Knežević was unsure about whether he wanted the billionaire on his vengeance list or not. Just the simple fact that his name was on the barrels of chemicals that ended up killing his daughters was enough to make him want the guy dead. However, the more he thought about going after the guy, it became clearer that wasn't a good idea, just simply for the two words "Iron Man." All Stark would have to do was put on the suit and Knežević would be as good as dead. He already knew these "powers" or whatever they were wouldn't be strong enough to break through that armor and just one blast from those energy-beam-things in the suit's hands would put a gaping hole in him. He was still in his underwear for goodness' sake! (He tried putting clothes on but found the task daunting now that everything he touched turned to stone and he eventually gave up. If he couldn't put on a simple shirt and pants, then it probably could be surmised that that any sort of protective gear would be next to impossible.) Going toe to toe with Stark was a horrible idea. So, as much as he wanted to kill the man, Knežević decided that it would be best to leave him off his hit list. At least, for now.

His plan was simple: touch as many people as he could until someone had the good enough sense to put a bullet in his brain. It was simple, but it worked for him. He did have specific people in mind that he wanted to take his vengeance on, but basically, anyone who got in his way wasn't going to be spared.

He started with the closest person he could find, the judge who had sentenced him to twelve years in prison. He was able to find him listed in the white pages and he lived only a few blocks from Lorraine. Breaking into the man's house, he found the honorable judge asleep in his bed with his wife. Careful not to do anything to awaken them as he approached the bed, Knežević grabbed ahold of both of their arms. They both let out sharp cries of shock and horror at the sudden contact and the intrusion, but before long they were completely silent, their skin and inner linings of their bodies now turned to stone. Knežević didn't even stay long enough to watch them suffocate to death. He was already on to the next one.

It continued all throughout the night and into the next morning. His old neighbors, Audrey's teacher who had testified against him in court, the warden of the prison he was held in, the police officers who arrested him, several corrections officers who had tormented him over the years… All of them were getting their due one by one. Knežević tried to savor the sweet, glorious feeling that serial killing brought him.

* * *

 **Thursday, August 12th, 2010**

The kill that he had enjoyed the most was the DSS worker who had taken the girls away from him. He had walked straight into her office after turning the receptionist and cutting the phone line to the building. He didn't have to say anything to her. She recognized him immediately. Before she could say anything, he reached out and touched the pale skin of her hand. Her eyes went wide and when she saw the stone crawling up her arm, she screamed.

"What's happening?" she pleads. "What'd you do to me? Why are you doing this to me? Please, make it stop!" A smirk appeared on Knežević's face as he gave his answer.

"That, ma'am," he said. "Is more proof to me that you should have never taken my daughters away from me." She was dead before she could give her response.

* * *

The woman going by the alias "Agent Duran" stared at the scene in front of her. Just days before she had walked through a neighborhood covered in explosive debris and coated in a thick layer of ruby and sapphire crystals. It had been one of the most inexplicably beautiful things she had ever seen. Now, she was looking at one of the most inexplicably horrifying ones.

A person – or what formerly was a person – stood in front of her encased in what appeared to be yellow sapphire. The body was female, and she was declared deceased upon the EMT's arrival. They made this decision based upon the facts that she was completely unresponsive to their questions and because the entirety of her skin appeared to be covered in stone, including the inner linings of her air passageways. Another discovery that they had made was that in some of the less opaque places where the stone had formed, you could see straight through the skin to her blood vessels and muscles, meaning that the stone wasn't just **covering** her skin, it was **a part** of her skin. Eventually, just staring at the petrified corpse was too creepy for Duran. She had to look away before she lost what little remained of her sanity. …And her lunch.

Turning her attention to the file she had in her hand, she read everything pertinent about the victim that she could find. Her name was Tricia See. She had worked for the California Department of Social Services for almost twenty years. Outside of her job, she didn't live a risky lifestyle. She had a husband, two kids, and never got in trouble with the law. She didn't even have a parking ticket on record. The obvious scenario for as to why this murder occurred was that someone she came into contact to through her work was upset with her for some reason. Maybe she split up their family? Maybe she gave a scathing testimony about them in court? It didn't matter, though. The point was that this person was probably angry with her for what she did as a profession and Duran felt like she probably had a good guess as to who.

Working as quick as she could, Duran began flipping through the files that Mrs. See had stored away in her cabinet. She was looking for one name and felt relief wash over her when she saw that the files were impeccably organized alphabetically. That made finding things so much easier, especially given that she didn't have much time. S.H.I.E.L.D. was bound to show up there eventually and if she stuck around long enough to bump into them, then her cover was blown.

Opening the cabinet marked "K-M" Duran flipped through dozens of files before she found the one she almost knew she would find. Written in neat calligraphy at the top of the file was "Knežević, Audrey/Stephanie." It was just more confirmation that the person behind this string of peculiar murders was none other than Vasyl Knežević, the father of the two girls in the file.

It hadn't been hard to connect the killings back to Knežević. Although the first death had nothing to connect back to him at all (unless he'd literally murder for a taco) the subsequent deaths only had one man tying them all together. Sure, it could be any current or former convict in the State of California, but none of them had any ties to Lorraine Wilburn and her nieces. Knežević, however, did.

The discoveries of Lorraine, Audrey, and Stephanie's bodies had been a godsend to Agent Duran. After running around Los Angeles all night trying to find a connection between all these cops, judges, lawyers, and corrections officers she finally found the thread that connected it all together. Yes, it was unfortunate that these innocent women had to die for her to get this information, but it was still a lucky break.

Hacking into the California Department of Corrections' files, she learned that Vasyl Knežević was a Vietnamese child adopted by Eastern European immigrants (which explained the odd name.) He married straight out of high school and had his two daughters with his wife, Joyce. Everything seemed normal until you got to the part where he was laid off from his job, his wife died, the state took his kids away, and he was arrested for child endangerment and illegal production of deadly explosives. That was when it started to make sense. The cops were the ones who arrested him back in 1999, the corrections officers worked at the prison he was held in, the judge was the one who sentenced him, etc.

What still wasn't clear though was the connection to Winnifred "Oswin" Oswald. There were many reasons to just write off the happenstance of her house being blown up off as a coincidence – the most outstanding one being that Oswin was illegally squatting in the building. It very easily could be that Knežević had forced her out of the home, or worse killed her, and no one would be the wiser.

Something about the thought caused Agent Duran's stomach to become twisted in knots. There was a gut feeling there and she knew she needed to suss it out before something terrible happened. The best route, she decided, was to question the woman she met the other day, Nina Alaska. She could tell there was something more to her relationship with Oswin than Miss Alaska was willing to let on. Duran didn't care what they did in their private lives, but if they were close then Nina could probably shed some light on how Oswin and Knežević were connected.

Graciously, Nina had offered her cell, home, and work numbers to Duran in case they either needed information from her or they found Oswin's body in the wreckage of the house. Dialing the first two numbers only gave her voicemail. As she stepped out of the DSS offices, she called the number and was informed by a receptionist that Nina had gone out to lunch. Stating that it was an urgent matter and handing out her falsified Homeland Security credentials over the phone, she got the receptionist to reveal the name and location of the restaurant she normally went to for lunch. Duran then found herself making a mad dash across LA, trying to catch Nina before she left the restaurant.

When Duran finally arrived at the restaurant, it looked like she had just barely made it in time. Nina was sitting at a table in front of the establishment and looked to be filling out the bill. The short brunette woman that was sitting with her got up and headed inside the building, giving Duran the perfect opportunity to talk to Nina alone. Before Nina took notice of her presence, Duran took possession of the seat next to her and began speaking.

"Hello, Miss Alaska," Duran said. "Listen, I know I said I'd call you first if I had any questions, but I couldn't reach your cell and the receptionist at your work said you'd be here. Time is of the essence. I need answers now."

"Jesus," was all Nina could say as Duran finished speaking. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Well, there's no time for formalities," Duran said. "People's lives are at stake here and they all depend on your answer to my next question. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Nina grumbled. "Though, the least you could do is buy a girl a drink first." Duran ignored the comment and got straight to the point.

"Did Oswin ever mention anyone by the name of Vasyl Knežević?" To Duran's surprise, Nina's face lit up with instant recognition.

"Oh yes," Nina said. "She wouldn't shut up about him. The prick promised her some money if she helped him move some chemicals he bought, and not only did he not pay out, he also blew up her house! Can you believe it?"

"Wha?" Duran struggled to find her words. "What are you talking about? I thought Oswin was killed in the blast."

"She's alive," Nina said like it was nothing. Duran's mouth fell open.

"Are you sure?" the agent asked.

"Yeah," Nina said. "She got out before the house went up. I thought the police knew about that."

"No," Duran said. "Well, I didn't, at least. Where is she now?"

"She just went to use the restroom," Nina said. "She should be out in a minute."

"I don't have a minute." Duran got up and went inside the building, heading straight for its facilities. The second they came into view, the brunette woman who was sitting with Nina before stepped out of the women's room.

 _This must be Oswin,_ Duran thought as she approached her.

"Excuse me, ma'am," she said. "Are you Winnifred Oswald?"

"Yes," the woman said. "But I prefer to be called Oswin. What can I do for you?"

"A lot, actually." Duran pulled out the bogus Homeland Security badge her overseers had provided her with. "My name is Agent Jenifer Duran. I'm with the Department of… Hey!"

Duran's hand shot out and grabbed Oswin's wrist as the other woman tried to push past her. If Oswin thought she could run away from her, she had another thing coming.

"Hey!" Oswin shouted. "What are you doing? Let go!"

"What are you doing?" Duran asked. "I am a Homeland Security Agent! I'm trying to help you."

"Help me?" Oswin scoffed. "How? By scaring the crap out of my girlfriend again?"

"Listen," Duran said. "We have no time for this. I believe Vasyl Knežević is on a killing spree and you might be his next intended victim." Duran could have sworn that she felt Oswin's veins run cold through the skin of her wrist.

"What?" Oswin said. "What do you mean? He's killing people?"

"Yes," Duran said. "I can't explain how, but he's committed dozens of murders over the course of the past twelve hours. I know you're involved with the robbery at Stark Industries, but the best thing you can do for yourself right now is to turn yourself in and get Nina some protection."

"Are you kidding me?" Oswin pulled her hand back. "Hell no! I'm not turning myself in and I'm not going to leave Nina alone when there's a madman out there trying to kill us!"

"Oswin, think about this rationally," Duran urged. "The police have the resources to protect you both."

"Yeah," Oswin said. "Me from a jail cell and her somewhere a thousand miles away. Thanks, but I think I'll be just fine handling it on my own.

Oswin then marched off in the direction of the front entrance. Duran followed her and was taken off-guard when Oswin stopped short. Looking out the front window, Duran saw an Asian man clad only in his tighty-no-longer-whities. Duran staggered out a shocked breath.

 _Knežević!_ Thinking fast, Duran took her gun from where it was holstered at her hip and headed back outside to confront the alleged serial killer. When she got out there, Nina rushed to her feet.

"For the last time," Nina screamed. "I don't know where she is! I haven't seen her in days!"

"Fine," Knežević said coldly. "Be like that. You can suffer for her."

"Homeland Security!" Duran shouted. "Freeze!"

She raised her gun at Knežević, but not fast enough. In that split-second, he reached out and grabbed Nina's forearm. Nina rushed to take a few steps backward, breaking the hold he had on her. Her eyes went to the spot where he had grabbed her, and she let out an ear-piercing scream. Duran's eyes widened with shock as Nina's arm slowly turned to stone.

 _So that's how he does it._ Duran didn't hesitate. She shot the gun, having aimed it directly at Knežević's chest. It didn't kill him, though, as he reached up and caught the bullet in his hand, turning it to stone and dropping it uselessly to the ground. Duran froze for a second in sheer shock, which ended up being her undoing. Knežević sped into a nearby alleyway. By the time that sense snapped back into Duran and she began to pursue him, he had already disappeared from the scene.

Duran ran back over to Nina, who at this point had completely turned to solid stone. She could see that the woman's brown eyes were twitching away in her crystal skull. Whether this was some neurological reaction or Nina was still alive in there, begging for help in the only way she could was unclear to Duran. She felt a pang of guilt run through her chest and couldn't help but mouth the words "I'm sorry" to the helpless woman. She turned and looked away before Nina's eyes stopped moving.

All around the scene, people had stopped dead in their tracks and pulled out their cellphones. Some were taking pictures and videos of the newly formed human statue. Others had done the responsible thing and called 911. Looking through the gathered crowd, Duran noticed that one person was missing. She dashed back into the restaurant, fully expecting to see Oswin still standing there, frozen with fear. However, that wasn't the case. Several people were standing at the window looking out in amazement at what had happened on the patio before them. Quite a few more were cowering in the back, fearful that they too may be attacked. Oswin was among neither group.

 _Some girlfriend she was._ Duran thought with a roll of her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Duran pulled out her secure satellite phone and went into the ladies' room. She hit speed dial number one on her phone and brought it to her ear. She already knew that he wasn't going to like this, not one bit.

* * *

Oswin clung to Nina's stone form as she sobbed. She had followed Agent Duran out the door and chased after Knežević after the agent's attempt to shoot him had failed. She followed him for a good three or four blocks before she inevitably lost him. At that point, she had returned to Nina's side. She was too late.

Now, all she could do was hold Nina and cry. She wanted to pretend that she had no idea how something like this could have happened, but she'd just be fooling herself. This happened because she was selfish and took things that weren't hers. The time had come for her to pay the price. She just wished that price hadn't included Nina.

Eventually, the heartbreaking scene was broken up by two people clad in black uniforms. Oswin watched as they loaded Nina into the back of a van emblemized with the seal of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division. She screamed as Nina was pulled from her arms, but the two people in black didn't even flinch. Turning to look at the gawkers who had gathered behind the police tape, Oswin noticed that they didn't seem phased, either. Oswin jumped up and down, screaming at the top of her lungs. No one looked her way. She let out a groan of frustration. The emotional nature of the situation caused her powers or whatever you call them to start acting up. Of course, this had to happen now and of course, she had to realize this just as the opportunity to utilize it had already passed. The van that Nina's body was loaded into was pulling away from the curb before the thought had even occurred to her to try and hitch a ride.

Deciding it probably wasn't the best idea to stick around any longer, Oswin ducked under the police tape and started to run. She ran for several blocks, not even paying attention to where she was going. She ran until her legs gave out underneath her, and even then she still tried to keep going, pulling herself forward with her arms until a cacophony of sobs overtook her.

Lying on the dirty sidewalk and crying her eyes out, Oswin mentally berated herself for not hearing that Homeland Security Agent out. If she just stayed calm and complied with the woman, then maybe she would have gotten to Nina a second sooner and Knežević wouldn't have gotten to her. If only…

Suddenly Duran's words came back to her.

 _"He's committed dozens of murders over the course of the past twelve hours."_

 _He's also sure to commit dozens more._ With that thought, Oswin realized what she needed to do. She had to turn herself in. She didn't care if she was going to go to jail anymore. Innocent people were in danger and it wasn't like she had anything to lose.

Dialing 911, Oswin tried her damnedest to confess over the phone, but thanks to her powers acting up the operator on the other end of the line couldn't hear her. Throwing the phone away and realizing that she'd be faced with a similar situation if she tried to go to the police station to confess, Oswin let out a pained groan. This was the definition of a rock and a hard place. If only there was something to get around her powers…

Once again, something Duran said came back to Oswin.

 _"I know you're involved with the robbery at Stark Industries."_

 _Oh my god,_ Oswin thought. _Tony Stark has technology that can get around my powers!_

Almost instantly, Oswin was on her phone scouring the dark corners of the internet for Stark's home address.

* * *

 **So, yeah, hopefully, you're not too mad at me for stopping here for right now. The deleted scenes for _Better to Be Fake and Happy_ took up the last post-date spot for July. I'm not going to be posting in August because: **

**One, I struggle with depression and August is usually the worst month for me because of the extreme heat which makes me miserable and...**

 **Two, NOTHING HAPPENS IN AUGUST! I'm serious! In the US, there are no holidays that take place in August, personally, I don't know anyone who has a birthday in August, it's just an entire month where nothing is going on and it makes me sad! Even if I did post in August, you'd only get one post on August first and that'd be it for the month! So, you're just going to have to deal with waiting until September First for the next chapter. Everyone okay with that? Good, 'cause you really have no choice.**

 **Remember kids, no matter how much the media tells you summer is the best season, don't buy into it! It's hot and miserable and if you don't like going to the beach, there really isn't much for you to do!**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 7/18/18.**


	19. The Confession Extraction

**And welcome back lovely readers! I would be nice and offer you a recap of what happened in this story since it's been forty-four days since I updated this fic and you've probably forgotten, but unfortunately, I'm not that generous. Go back and read it yourself, you lazy-ass!**

* * *

 **Thursday, August 12th, 2010**

Pepper got off the elevator at the main lobby level of the hospital and began to look around for that restroom she spotted when she walked in. Yes, she really had calls to make, but in all honesty, she just needed to get out of that room. That was just an emotional rollercoaster she didn't need to go down. Honestly, could that doctor have been at least the tiniest bit considerate? She just had to scare them all to death by saying it was probably AIDS one minute and then saying it was something else entirely the next. She just hoped that this next doctor Tony was going to see had a clue what she was doing.

Locating the restroom, she was just about to head in to clean up her face when she heard someone call her name. Turning her head, she watched a trio of police officers escorting Lara into the building. She tried to take a deep breath to center herself, all the while begging in her mind for this to be just a simple misunderstanding. Pepper turned, walked over to the officers, put on her battle face, and hoped to God that they wouldn't notice that she had been crying.

"Are you Miss Pepper Potts?" The officer who had called out to her asked.

"Yes officer," she said. "What can I do for you?"

"This woman," the officer said, pointing at Lara. "Claims to be the personal assistant of Tony Stark. Can you confirm that what she is saying is the truth?"

"Yes," Pepper said immediately. "Yes, she's telling the truth. I hired her myself along with Mr. Stark and I can get the necessary files to prove that she's employed by Stark Industries."

"That won't be necessary ma'am," the officer said. "I just needed that conformation." He turned to the two officers flanking Lara. "You can let her go." Lara visibly deflated as the two guards backed off.

"Thank you," Lara said as she moved to stand beside Pepper. Pepper, however, didn't even acknowledge that Lara said anything, instead keeping her eyes on the officer in front of her.

"May I ask what this is about?" Pepper asked. The officer didn't seem phased.

"I'd like to speak to Mr. Stark," the officer said. Pepper opened her mouth to argue why he couldn't, but he stopped her dead in her tracks by saying "I know he's here. Miss Conroy told us where we could find him when contacting him by phone failed."

"Sorry," Lara said. "I had no choice, given the situation."

"And that situation would be?" She raised an eyebrow as if to will the cop to be truthful to her. It didn't work.

"I'd like to spe-"

"Someone broke into Tony's house." The cop shot an irritated look at Lara. "Oops," she said despite her smirk. Pepper's eyes went wide, and she looked back and forth between the cop and the blonde woman.

"What?" she said. "What do you mean? Was anything taken?"

"We don't think so, ma'am," the cop admitted. "But we'd still like to have a word with Mr. Stark before we discuss any further details. Could you provide us with his room number?"

"Sure," Pepper nodded. "Fourth floor, room P13. Go straight from the elevators and take the second left turn. It'll be on your right." The cop nodded and gave some sort of signal to his two buddies that told them that they weren't needed anymore. As the cop walked over to the elevator and waited for his turn to board, Pepper gently grabbed Lara by the elbow and led her to a relatively empty waiting area.

"What's going on?" She asked as she pushed Lara to sit down in an empty chair. "Tony's house was broken into?"

"Yeah," Lara confirmed. "I don't know if anything was taken, though. I just saw the door open, took one step in, saw the whole place ransacked, then immediately stepped back outside and called the police. Sorry."

"No," Pepper said. "That's good. You did what you were supposed to do."

"Yeah, but this is the last thing Tony needs right now." Lara brought a hand to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. "I swear on my mother's grave that I locked that door on the way out. I forgot to put the key back, but I swear I locked the door."

"I believe you," Pepper said. "Trust me, Tony has security protocol on top of security protocol protecting that house. I'm certain he has JARVIS lock down the house automatically if he leaves without doing it. Not to mention all the alarms that would be triggered if an unidentified person set foot on the property."

"Really?" Lara raised an eyebrow. "Because the police told me they hadn't gotten any calls from Tony's address before I called." Pepper's eyes went wide. "That's not a good thing," she concluded.

"No," Pepper said. "No, it's not."

* * *

Agent Duran watched Oswin carefully through the glass. Just two hours after she disappeared from the scene of Nina's death, she reappeared in the home of Tony Stark, having practically trashed the place. As far as the police could tell so far, she hadn't taken anything from the house. They patted her down twice; once before they loaded her into the police car and once after she arrived at the station. They didn't find anything on her other than thirty-seven cents and a department store dye pack attached to the dress she was wearing. Yet another charge they could add to the ever-growing list.

Duran wasn't allowed to interview Oswin. That job fell to Special Agent Bergeron, who had taken over the case now that it was found not to be a matter of national security, as Duran had previously argued to keep her foot in the investigation; just a regular, old case of felony grand theft. However, she did get Bergeron to agree to let her listen in on his interrogation of Oswin. She gave some silly line about wanting to see the case through to the end and somehow, he reluctantly agreed to it.

Listening to Oswin's story, Duran could tell that she was being truthful, even though it was obvious Bergeron didn't think the same. Oswin sat up straight, maintained eye contact, and looked up whenever she was asked to recall a certain detail. Those were all clear-cut signs she was telling the truth. However, Bergeron's tone became more and more frustrated as the interrogation went on. He kept insisting that she was lying and urging her to tell the truth, but there was no other truth to tell.

"I swear I'm being completely honest here," she said. "I literally just walked into the main Stark Industries building, hacked one lock, broke another, stole all of those chemicals, all with the assistance of Vasyl Knežević and I did the same thing at Tony Stark's house all on my own. What is so hard to believe about that?"

"I'm the one asking the questions here, missy." He punctuated the sentence by pointing at himself and Oswin rolled her eyes. "Don't roll your eyes at me. I know that's not how it went down. Do you honestly think Stark's an idiot? He had dozens of security protocols in place to keep dirty little thieves like you from breaking in and stealing his shit. You couldn't have possibly gotten around **all** of them by yourself. Even with Neshchich guy helping you, it wouldn't have been enough. There's someone else you're protecting, and I want to know who it is, right now!" His fist slammed down on the table, causing Oswin to jump for a second. It didn't last, though. She shrunk back into her chair and hunched her shoulders, looking down. She bit her lip and tears came to her eyes. Duran knew what she had to be thinking of. It was written all over her face.

"I have no one to protect," she confessed. "Not anymore, anyways."

"Then why don't you just spit it out?" Special Agent Bergeron asked. "Don't you think that'd be much easier than continuing to sit here and lie to me?"

"I'm not lying!" Oswin looked up at him with eyes filled with tears and fury.

"Then tell me the truth!" Bergeron slammed his fist down on the table once again.

"I am!" Oswin burst out into sobs. She put her head down for a few seconds and let out a couple strangled sobs, clearly trying to regain a sense of composure. When she looked up, she had to brush hair out of her face and her mascara was dying the dark trail of tears down her cheeks black. She looked him straight and clearly in the eyes. "I am telling the truth. I have powers that allow me to go unnoticed whenever I want. That's how I got around the security at Stark Industries, and I had help from Vasyl Knežević and **only** Vasyl Knežević and instead of interrogating me further you should be looking for him! He's been touching people and turning them to stone! I've seen it happen with my own eyes! Please! You have to do something to stop him!"

At that point, Bergeron seemingly gave up. He said nothing as he got up from his chair and exited the interrogation room. A few seconds later, the door to the observation room opened and Bergeron walked in. Duran made no attempt to hide the triumphant smirk that was appearing on her face.

"So, that went pretty smoothly."

"Can it, Duran," Bergeron said. "I don't want to hear it."

"Why not?" Duran teased. "I mean, you practically had the girl eating out of your hand! I don't know how you do it!"

"Seriously, stop it!" He let out a frustrated groan and brought his hand to his forehead for a second before looking back at Duran. "I hate to ask this," he begrudgingly said. "But do you have any idea as to how to get her to crack? Because I sure as hell don't."

Duran's smirk became wider and she took a few steps closer to the window. When she really looked through it, her smirk fell. Oswin had her head down and her arms were pressed to he chest. She was clearly crying. Duran couldn't feel anything but pity for her.

"To be honest," Duran said. "I think she's already cracked. There's nothing more you can get from her."

"You're kidding me, right?" Bergeron shook his head. "You don't honestly believe that this girl has powers, do you?"

"We have Norse Gods having death matches in small towns in New Mexico," Duran said. "And giant green rage monsters wiping out entire neighborhoods in New York. The man she stole from in question flies around in a metal suit and stops other people in metal suits from hurting people."

"And this has what to do with the crazy chick claiming she has magical powers?" Bergeron asked.

"I'm just saying we live in strange times." Duran shrugged. "It's best to keep an open mind." Bergeron scoffed at that. "Hey, it's up to her defense attorney how they're going to swing this. Probably would be best to go with mental health/insanity defense, but I'm sure it's nothing your DA can blow right out of the water."

"So what?" Bergeron asked. "Are you saying that we should just give up? There's no way that two people alone could have gotten that many chemicals out of Stark Industries by themselves! That just doesn't happen!"

"I'm not saying that you should give up," Duran said. "I'm just saying if that story's all she's going to give to you, you might as well just place her under arrest now. If she is protecting someone, she'll fess up later and try to make a deal. Right now, though, she's not talking, and I don't think she's going to be willing to talk any time soon." She gestured to the view through the window. Oswin's sobs were becoming more and more hysterical by the moment. "Just give her a break from all this for right now. Who knows, a few nights in a federal lock-up might loosen her lips a little bit." Bergeron let out an aggravated sigh but nodded.

"You're probably right," he admitted. "I'll find an agent to transfer her to holding and we'll see if we can find space for her in Victorville."

"Victorville?" Duran questioned. "Isn't that a low-security facility?"

"Yes," Bergeron said. "But the only two max-sec prisons that house women are on the East Coast. Even if you go for medium-security, the closest facility is in Dublin, which is all the way up by Oakland. Sometimes you've just got to work with what you've got."

"True," Duran said. "But this girl got around **Tony Stark's** security system. I would think that the FBI would want to ensure that she has no opportunity to escape whatsoever."

"Don't worry, she won't." Bergeron held his hand out to Duran. "It was a pleasure working with you, ma'am." Duran gave a cordial smile and grasped the offered hand firmly.

"Wish I could say the same thing." With that remark, Duran turned and exited the observation room, not even looking back or caring if the Special Agent gave a response. She had bigger fish to fry.

As she walked out of the building and got into her car, Duran pulled out one of her cellphones and hit speed-dial number six. She didn't have to wait long for the call to connect.

* * *

Tony was furious. So furious that the word furious might be an understatement.

 _Too far,_ he thought. _Whoever did this has gone too far._ Granted, he had been thankful that nothing had been taken this time but still, the fact that these people thought they could waltz into his home and his company's headquarters and just take or do whatever they wanted was enough to make Tony's anemic blood boil. As soon as he finished talking to the cop, he wanted nothing more than to jump out of bed, rush back to Malibu, put on the suit, and bring whoever was responsible for either of the two robberies to justice.

However, he knew that was going to be difficult. For starters, one of the robbers – a woman by the name of Winnifred Oswald, whom Tony was certain would come back as the woman on the surveillance footage – had already been arrested and was in FBI custody. They did have a second suspect they were looking for, but the cop wouldn't give him a name or any other information like that. He understood it was an ongoing investigation and all, but he couldn't help but be frustrated about the whole thing.

Another complication was the fact that he was still in the hospital. There was less than a minute between the cop leaving and a woman with long blonde hair walked into the room introducing herself as Dr. Holcomb. He was then forced to listen to the whole spiel about what his test results showed again. She did go into more detail about his condition and methods of treatment than Dr. Rawls did, which Tony considered being a good thing. Although, she did concede that the only treatment method available for a case as severe as his was a bone marrow transplant, which was complicated by the fact that he had no living relatives and one of the rarest blood types in the world. However, they did have the means to treat the ailments and get him back in relatively good health. They wanted to focus on that before they tackled the donor problem. After all, he needed to be in good health before they did the surgery.

After going over his diagnosis with him, Dr. Holcomb went over the medications Dr. Rawls had put him on and a few others she had added herself to help reduce his recovery time. She did note that his fever had already gone done from the scary 105.3 degrees that it was when he first came in, to a less dangerous 102.7. The only real worry she had about the infections that were plaguing him was the risk of him drowning in his own bodily fluids.

The placement of the Arc Reactor already gave Tony a diminished lung capacity, not to mention the bits of shrapnel that threatened to shred his heart and lungs should said reactor become dysfunctional. Basically, his lungs were already in bad shape and having fluid constantly flowing to his lungs via post-nasal drip wasn't helping matters. So, as a precaution Dr. Holcomb had him hooked up to a heart monitor to keep an eye on his vitals, and a nasal canula to continuously provide him with clean oxygen. He had to admit that the canula made it a bit easier to breathe, but the heart monitor did nothing but add undue stress to Tony's already fragile state. He couldn't explain why, but Tony couldn't help but feel threatened by the medical device. With each sharp beep it gave, all he could hear was a shrill, electronic voice mocking him.

 ** _Beep! Beep! Beep!_**

 _You! Can't! Leave!_

 ** _Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_**

 _If! You! Leave! You! Will! Die!_

 ** _Beep! Beep! Beep!_**

 _You! Are! Trapped!_

 ** _Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_**

 _No! One! Can! Save! You!_

It went on and on for several minutes after the doctor and nurses left and Tony was alone in the room. He felt in danger of going insane. Luckily, at that point Conroy's sandy-blonde head popped through the door.

"Knock, knock," she said as she tapped on the wood of the door. "Is it alright for me to come in?"

"Sure," Tony said. "Just shut the door behind you." Lara nodded and did as he asked before nervously taking a step forward.

"Listen," she said. "I'm sorry that all of this happened. I thought I made sure to lock the door when we left earlier, but I must have messed up somehow."

"It's alright," Tony assured. "Even if you didn't lock the door correctly, there were at least sixteen other security protocols that should have kicked in the second an unidentified person set foot on the property, let alone got in the house. It's not your fault."

"I also wasn't able to get the stuff you asked for," she added.

"It's fine." Tony found his eyes going back to the sensor on his finger. He wished he could take the sensor off and leave, but if he took off the sensor the monitor would begin to flatline and he'd be caught right away.

 _Unless…_ Tony looked up at Conroy and grinned. This was just too easy.

"Hey, Conroy," he said. "Do you have any heart conditions?"

"Uh, no," she said as she furrowed her brow. "I mean I'm on Lotensin, but that's for Diabetes, not any heart problem. Why?"

"No reason," Tony said. "Can I see your hand?"

"My hand?" She frowned, and her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Can I just see your hand?" Tony said. "Come on, it'll only take a second." Suddenly, Conroy realized what was going on.

"Are you trying to sneak out of the hospital?" she asked.

"What?" Tony said. "No, of course not."

"Because you're an able-minded adult," she said. "You don't **need** to sneak out of the hospital. You can just check out AMA."

"I just need to take care of one thing and I'll come right back," Tony said. "I promise."

"I get the feeling that your promises don't mean shit," Conroy said.

"Well, too bad," Tony said. "It's the best I can offer right now."

"Why do you even need to leave so badly?" Conroy asked. "Because if you need something done, I can do it for you."

"No," Tony said. "This is something only I can do." Once again, Conroy seemed to be catching on to what he was saying.

"Wait," Conroy said. "Does this have something to do with Iron Man?"

"Yes." Conroy's eyes squeezed shut for a second and she muttered something about owing someone fifty bucks, but after that moment passed, she held out her hand to him.

"Alright," she said. "Just make it fast."

Tony wasted no time in transferring the sensor from his finger to Conroy's. The heart monitor flatlined for a moment, but thankfully it was short enough that it could be written off as the sensor being accidentally jostled. Once the sensor was securely on Conroy's finger, she moved to help Tony out of bed. He had to admit he didn't feel at one-hundred percent, but he was steadier on his feet than earlier.

"You okay to stand on your own?" Conroy asked as she started to retract her support.

"Yeah," Tony said. "Thank you."

"No problem," Conroy assured.

"Is Steve still out there?" Tony found himself asking.

"Yeah," she said. "I saw him out in the waiting room on the way here. He looked a little freaked out to me for some reason. Something happen?"

"Said something I shouldn't have," Tony admitted. A pang of guilt ran through him again and he had to remind himself that the fact that Steve still hadn't summoned S.H.I.E.L.D. to come pick him up was probably a good sign. It meant that he wasn't mad at Tony specifically at least. That, or he was so fed up with S.H.I.E.L.D. that spending time with someone who knew his deepest, most well-hidden secret and could potentially use it against him at any point in time (not that Tony would) seemed more appealing. Ever the optimist, though, Tony held out hope that it was the former and moved on to his next concern. "What about Pepper?"

"She was on the phone, last I saw," Conroy said. "Just between you and me, I think she's planning on taking over one of those conference rooms downstairs."

"Wouldn't expect nothing less." Though, admittedly Tony was a little let down. Pepper was the only ride he had back to Malibu. He still had the clothes he came in with, so that wasn't an issue. He just really didn't want to wait for a cab. Seeing as he had no other choice, Tony just sucked it up and put his pants on. Once he had that done, he pulled the hospital gown over his head – not bothering to untie the ties – and slipped his undershirt and white button-up back on.

"Is there anything you need me to do other than sit here and wear this?" Conroy waved the finger had the sensor attached to it.

"No," Tony said. "Just stay there and don't take off the sensor."

"Okay," she said. "What should I say if Pepper or someone comes in here looking for you?"

"Tell them the truth," Tony said. "I'm only sneaking out to save the hassle of having to check out and check back in again." Conroy opened her mouth to speak again, but Tony cut her off. "And before you ask, if the dictators of any third-world countries die, celebrate as much as you like, just don't leave that spot."

"I was just going to ask if you knew if the TV got AMC," Conroy said. "But that works, too." Tony rolled his eyes as he started to walk towards the door.

"There should be a list on the tray table next to the bed."

"Thanks!"

Tony opened the door to the room slightly. Peering out, he could see that the nurse manning the nurse's station was on the phone and had her back to him. Perfect, just his chance. He slipped through the door as quickly as he could without making a sound. So far, so good. He began to retrace his steps from earlier that afternoon. Bound for the elevator, Tony only had that one goal in mind, which accounted for why he forgot he had to pass the waiting room to get there.

"Tony?" He froze the second he heard Steve's voice. Turning around, he could see what Conroy was talking about. Although Steve was doing his best to mask it, it was clear that underneath the surface was a mind fraught with fear and worry. Tony knew that mask well. He wore it often. "What are you doing?"

"I just need to do something really quick," Tony said. "I'll be right back." He started to go down the hallway again, but Steve was right behind him.

"Does the doctor know you're leaving?" he asked.

"No," Tony admitted. "But I'll be back before she even notices."

"You sure about that?" Steve asked. "Because I don't think you should be leaving considering how sick you are."

"I'll be okay for a bit," Tony assured before a sudden spell of dizziness struck him. He caught himself against the wall before he fell, and Steve rushed to put an arm around him for additional support. "Thanks."

"No problem," Steve said. "But really Tony, you should get back to bed. If you strain yourself too much, you're just going to make it worse."

"I can't, Steve," Tony said. "My house just got broken into. I need to go back there and make sure nothing was taken."

"You can do that when you're better," Steve argued.

"…And I need to find whoever was responsible for this **now**." Tony could tell that Steve was a little taken aback by the firmness of his tone. "I can't just let this slide, Steve. If I just let this person get away with robbing me **twice** , it sets a bad precedent and not just for taking my shit. Everyone and their mother will think it's okay to just waltz into my home and business whenever they like. I have enough problems with that crap as it is. I **need** to do this, and you can either help me to the elevators or I can try to make it down there myself. Either way, I'm leaving the hospital and taking care of this." Reluctantly, Tony felt Steve sigh and readjust the grip he had around his waist. Tony responded in kind by throwing his arm around Steve's shoulders.

"Which way was the elevators again?" Steve asked.

"I think a right at the end of this hall and then straight down," Tony said. Steve nodded and then hefted Tony's full weight.

The two of them made their way into the elevator, silent the whole time. Looking at Steve, Tony couldn't help but feel a little guilty for what he told him earlier. Since he had the opportunity, Tony thought it best to make good use of it.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier," he said.

"Why?" Steve said. "Is it not true?"

"No, it's true," Tony said. "But it hurt to hear it, right?"

"That's not your fault, though," Steve said. "I just thought I could trust Peggy more than that."

"Steve, the only reason why she told me…" Tony was forced to stop mid-sentence as the elevator doors opened back up to the lobby and a very familiar face. Her red hair was much shorter than it was three months ago, but he'd recognize the assessing look in those green eyes anywhere. "Miss Rushman," he said. "I thought I fired you."

"I quit," Natasha clarified. "And I thought you promised Commander Hill that you'd have Captain Rogers back by ten." Tony couldn't help but snort at that.

"What, Mommy's mad that I kept Stevie out past curfew?"

"Oh yeah," she said. "Big time."

* * *

 **Speaking of which, I do invite you all to go back and read what I wrote before. I'm getting close to the end here and I just want to make sure there aren't any stupid loose ends that I'm forgetting to tie up. I try to catch them all, but I'm not perfect. I know I probably wrote something in chapter two or five or something that I meant to follow up on later and just forgot about. If you think you've spotted one of those things let me know and I'll try to catch it!**

 **Remember kids, sneaking out of the hospital is perfectly fine, especially when your immune system is compromised and you can barely stand on your own two feet!**

* * *

 **Originally uploaded to FFN on 9/1/18.**


	20. Laws of Probability

**I'd have some sort of witty opening line, but it's 6:45 AM and I only got four hours of sleep last night. You can't expect that much from me.**

* * *

 **Thursday, August 12th, 2010**

Steve looked from Tony, back to the redheaded woman in front of them. Even though she was shorter than the both, she had sort of a natural air of intimidation airing from her, indicating that she was tougher and stronger than she looked. The black uniform and the insignia patches on her sleeves indicated that she was an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., which caused Steve to look down at the tracker bracelet confused. He hadn't pressed the button, so why had S.H.I.E.L.D. shown up? He spun it around on his wrist, trying to figure out if he could have jostled the little metallic band in some way that would have caused the tracker to be activated.

"I didn't call you," Steve said when no apparent reasoning for the agent's appearance could be found.

"You didn't have to," the redhead said. "Commander Hill has had agents tracking your movements since you left yesterday. We gave you two a little leeway, but now times up. Captain Rogers has to return to S.H.I.E.L.D. immediately."

"Yeah," Tony said. "That's not your call though."

"Not yours, either," the redhead shot back.

"True," Tony said. "So why don't we ask the person whose call it is?" Tony turned to Steve, who was still mostly supporting his weight. "Steve, do you want to go with the nice S.H.I.E.L.D. lady…" Steve took notice of how blatantly the redhead rolled her green eyes. "…or do you want to help me sneak out of the hospital, sneak back in, and watch the law of averages slowly kill me?"

To be honest, neither option seemed appealing to Steve. He didn't want to go back to S.H.I.E.L.D. He had nothing to do there and he was constantly afraid they were going to experiment on him or take his blood. At the same time, though, Steve didn't feel like he had much to do here either. Tony was sick and needed to go back to bed, but Steve doubted he could convince him to. Tony had made it clear that he had already made up his mind and he was going to do this with or without Steve. He didn't want to leave Tony hanging like that, but at the same time he wasn't sure what he would do once the situation was sorted out.

All day, all he's done was sit in the waiting room and worry himself sick for Tony, not only about his current medical crisis but also about what would be done to him if the doctors suspected that one or both were gay. Pepper had already figured it out. Lara clearly had it in her head that if they were in bed together, that meant they had sex, even if they had all their clothes on. It wouldn't take long for a doctor to figure it out. Then, to top it all of there was the coup de grâce; Peggy had told Tony the one secret she swore on her life never to tell – the fact that Steve felt attraction towards both boys and girls.

He still couldn't believe Peggy had done that. What on Earth could have possessed her to tell **anyone** that? The Peggy he knew was a woman of her word. She would never, **ever** take a secret like that lightly. Even if he died before her (which he technically almost did,) she'd be sure to take it to her grave and have it buried with her very well and good, so no one would ever find it. Yet, she had told Tony. Why? What had happened that pushed Peggy to reveal that and if Tony knew why didn't he tell S.H.I.E.L.D. or any of these doctors what he was?

None of it made sense to Steve, and all he really, truly wanted to do was **go home**. He wanted to see his friends again; Bucky, Peggy, Howard… He wanted to see his mom again, which was weird. He hadn't thought about her in a long time but now for some reason, he couldn't stop thinking of her. Grief probably had something to do with it. He couldn't have what he wished for, though, and he knew that. Instead, he had to figure out what was the best decision to make given the available, terrible options. Not an easy task, especially when you're holding up an elevator that someone else might need to use.

After taking those few moments to think it over, Steve decided that the best way to go would be for some sort of compromise. Granted, he didn't think either party would be satisfied with that, but it was the best route out of the situation that he could see.

"Look, we have sort of an emergency situation going on right now," Steve said. "Tony's house just got robbed and he needs to go back and check the damage. Can you please help us do this one thing real fast? If you do, I'll leave with you as soon as we get Tony back to the hospital. Deal?"

"Steve are you sure?" Tony asked.

"Of course, I'm sure," Steve said. "I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't sure." Tony nodded in understanding, but he didn't look at Steve. Steve, meanwhile, turned back to the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. "So, do we have a deal?"

The redhead bit her lip in consideration, but eventually stepped back from the elevator door, allowing Steve and Tony to pass.

"Alright," she said. "Deal, but this better not take longer than it has to."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Steve said. "Right, Tony?"

"Right." Tony was looking down and sounded rather reluctant. He gave Tony's shoulder a small, reassuring squeeze, but it didn't seem to ease the other man's aura. Steve frowned for a second but pulled it back before turning back to the redhead and offering a hand.

"Thank you, Agent…"

"Romanoff," the woman responded. "Natasha Romanoff." Steve tried not to give any hint that he recognized the name, though he did feel the incessant need to question her as to why she gave Tony such a scathing character profile.

* * *

Natasha, as it turned out, did have a car and was more than willing to drive them back to Malibu. Tony was thankful for that as it crossed one less worry out of his mind. However, he had at least a hundred more to worry about, including the man sitting in the front passenger seat. So, instead of using the thirty minutes it took to drive back to his house napping in the back seat as he was supposed to be (Steve insisted), he laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling of the black sedan and tried to ignore how uncomfortable he was and the fact that if they got into a car accident right now, he'd probably be dead. (Although he had to admit Natasha was a safe driver, she kept accidentally drifting into the left lane, which caused a few anxiety attacks, at least on Tony's part.

"Sorry," she had said. "Spent the last two months in New Zealand. Hard to switch back.")

Tony tried to keep his mind on the main goal for the moment; making sure that truly nothing had been taken from the house. Priority, the suits. Second priority, the servers that stored his entire database of information. Not only were the blueprints for the suits on that thing, but every file everything Tony ever invented after he took over the company, plus all his father's files that he had managed to digitize. There was a tremendous amount of damage one could do with that information. He did, of course, have it all protected to the max with a five-step verification process that only he could pass through and more fire walls than even he could be bothered to count. Still, it seemed when these kinds of things happened to him, they often went all-out on the level of damage and devastation they reached. He probably deserved it though, the law of averages and all that.

However, other worries still pricked at his mind and he tried to force them out; other, Steve-related worries. After all, what had he been thinking. Of course, Steve was mad at him. He'd be mad if someone outed him behind his back. (Although, he'd take being outed behind his back in private over being blackmailed and later publicly outed any day.) Well, technically he didn't do the outing, Peggy did, but still, he knew something very private about Steve that he shouldn't have known and for some reason he couldn't help but feel guilty about that. It was like he had kept a secret from him or something. That wasn't a good feeling and Tony tried to push it further and further away from him as they got closer to Malibu.

Once the car pulled into the driveway, Tony could finally feel himself relax a little bit, but he was up and out of the car before Natasha had a chance to kill the engine. He heard Steve call after him, but he ignored it. He had to take account of everything, ASAP.

When he got to the door, however, he was surprised to find it locked. It wasn't until that moment that he realized he left his key in the house and Conroy still had the spare key. (Which on the bright side meant that he wouldn't have to climb up the tree at the end of the driveway to get it. That then caused him to question how she found the key there in the first place but decided that was not important.) Tony laughed. Of all the things that went wrong today, he had to top it off by getting locked out of his own house. Forget the law of averages, it was Murphy's law that was clearly screwing him over.

"What's wrong?" Tony turned to look behind him and saw Steve and Natasha approaching him. "Did you forget the super-secret password?" Tony rolled his eyes.

"Hilarious, Romanoff," Tony said. "Left my keys in the house. You wouldn't still happen to have the one I gave you?"

"No," Natasha said. "But I can probably still get us in, though."

"How?" Tony asked.

"Give me a second." Natasha bent down in front of the door and placed a device on the lock.

"Are you going to try to pick it?" Steve asked.

"Something like that." Natasha got up and the device she put on the door started to beep. She grabbed both Steve and Tony's shoulders and turned them away from the door. "Don't look until I say."

"Why?" Tony asked. "What are you doing to my door?" In response to his question, there was a small **_bang_** and a flash of light.

"Now you can look." Turning back around, Tony saw the door hanging open, the lock having been blown off. He looked back to Natasha, who was clearly unphased by the angry expression on his face.

"You blew up my door!" he said.

"No," Natasha said. "I just broke the lock. The rest of the door is fine."

"Yeah, but now I can't lock it!" Tony said. "You'd think that'd be important to someone whose house just got broken into."

"Don't worry," Natasha said. "It's nothing you can't fix." Natasha walked past Tony, turning on a light that was attached to the gauntlets on her wrist. He and Steve followed her as she stepped inside the house. "Wow must have been some party."

Holding her wrist out in front of her, Natasha slowly guided the light across the wall to find a light switch. Turning it on, Tony was stunned by what he saw. Furniture was overturned. Broken glass and dishware were scattered everywhere. Nothing on the first floor seemed to have been spared, other than his mother's grand piano. (Which Tony was thankful for given that he had just gotten the thing restored.) The chandeliers had even been ripped down from the ceiling. He could see thousand-dollar bottles of wine smashed on the floor and first editions from the study with their pages ripped out and tossed on the floor. The police had told him that a lot of his property had been damaged, but he really wasn't expecting this.

"Holy shit," he muttered to himself. If the first floor was this bad, he wasn't sure he wanted to see the others. However, he needed to get downstairs fast. He needed to make sure no one had taken or trashed his armor.

Going slow and being careful not to step on something sharp enough to go through his shoe and stab his foot, Tony made his way downstairs and immediately punched in his access code into the panel by the door. When the door came unlocked he rushed into the lab and was relived to see that it didn't look like anyone had gotten down there or taken anything. The lab was just as he left it days before. (Well, DUM-E had somehow inexplicably got himself wrapped up in measuring tape, but that wasn't too out of the ordinary.) Slowly, Tony let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"JARVIS," Tony called out. "You still online?"

"I am indeed, Sir," the AI responded. More relief flooded through Tony. Finally, he was catching a break.

"Do a full system scan," he said. "Has anything been transferred onto another device recently?"

"No files have been recently downloaded," JARVIS said before Tony could finish asking the question.

"Good." Tony could feel himself becoming more and more relaxed. "What about the armor? Is it still fully functional?"

"The MK7 armor is fully functional and ready for use at any time."

"Awesome," Tony said. "Get the armor ready to deploy and do a search for anyone named Winnifred Oswald in the Los Angeles area. Don't just search the Internet, check all available law enforcement databases as well."

"Right away, Sir."

Tony went over to his desk and pulled out a spare set of clothes from the bottom drawer. He always kept a spare set in there in case the clothes he was wearing were badly singed in another fire or he spilled hazardous chemicals on them again. He made quick work of changing into the jeans and was just about to pull the t-shirt over his head when he heard a knock at the glass door. Turning around, he saw Steve and Natasha standing there, Natasha motioning for him to let them in. He slipped his head and arms through the proper holes and went to the door, the entire time trying to convince himself that he wasn't really wobbling that much.

"Hello," he said as he opened the door. "What can I do for the two of you this fine evening?"

"Both the first floor and the second floor are secure," Natasha reported. "They're both completely trashed, so there's no realistic way of ensuring everything's accounted for, but on the bright side there are no unaccounted-for individuals inside the building."

"Good," Tony said. "That's all great."

"So, are you ready to go back to the hospital now?" Steve asked.

"Ah, no," Tony said. "I still have some stuff to take care of."

"Stuff?" Steve questioned.

"You know," Tony said. "Stuff, things… In fact, Agent Romanoff, since you've been kind enough to scope out the rest of the house, why don't you check to make sure there are no 'unaccounted-for individuals' hiding in my basement?" Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" she questioned. "You honestly want me to go around your lab – which is locked down tighter than Fort Knox – to make sure that no one is hiding in there." Yeah, Tony could see her point.

"Alright," he said. "I want to talk to Steve. Can we please have a minute alone?" Natasha looked away for a second, considering the request.

"I'll give you five minutes," she said. "After that, you are going back to the hospital and Captain Rogers is returning to S.H.I.E.L.D. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." Natasha nodded and walked past him. Once Tony shut the glass door that separated the stairway from the lab, Tony said in the lowest tone JARVIS could register, "hey, J, keep an eye on Agent Romanoff and let me know if she tries to take anything."

"Will do, Sir."

"Thanks." Tony nodded and turned back to Steve, who was still looking just as anxious as he did at the hospital.

"So," Tony said. "I believe we've been trying to have a conversation for the past four hours, only to be continuously and rudely interrupted."

"I know," Steve said. "I'm sorry for running out earlier. I don't know what happened. It just suddenly became hard to breathe and I needed to get out of there."

"I'm not mad about that," Tony said. "I'm not mad at you for anything right now. I just want to know what the hell's going on."

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

"Look, I know what I said about Peggy telling me you're bi was upsetting…"

"Bi?" Steve questioned. "What's that?"

"Short for bisexual," Tony clarified. "It means you're attracted to both boys and girls."

"Do you have to say that so loud?" Steve asked.

"Why?" Tony questioned. "We're in my house. No one's going to hear."

"Agent Romanoff could hear," Steve pointed out.

"So?" Tony questioned. "What's she going to do?"

"She could have you arrested," Steve pointed out. "Or worse, have you thrown in an asylum!"

"Arrested?" Tony questioned. "Why would I be…" Then it hit him in the face like a 2x4. "It was illegal to be gay in the 40's wasn't it?"

"Yes," Steve said. "Why wouldn't it be? I mean, I know I'm just sick and I can't get better. Hell, the serum couldn't even fix this, and it fixed everything else…"

"Steve, stop." Tony just couldn't listen to that. All the vile self-hatred in those words made what bounced around in Tony's own head half the time sound like a glowing appraisal of himself. "You're not sick. We don't think like that anymore."

"Of course, I'm sick," Steve said. "I'm just as sick as all the lunatics in the asylum."

"We don't have lunatic asylums anymore either," Tony said. "We kind of got rid of those after we found out how bad places like Willowbrook were."

"Why are you still even talking to me?" Steve asked. "If you knew all along, why didn't you tell S.H.I.E.L.D.? Why do you keep wanting to be with me? Why did you let me sleep in your bed with you?" Tony's face went pale.

"Listen," Tony said. "I'm talking to you because I like you. I don't know why, but I do. I also didn't tell S.H.I.E.L.D. because I know how terrible it is to have someone publicly out you. I've been there…"

"Sir, I couldn't find any results for the name you asked me to search for, but while searching for law enforcement databases it came to my attention that the FBI put out a BOLO for a man they believe to be involved with the Stark Industries robbery." Tony's eyes went wide and he immediately tuned away from Steve.

"What?" He punched his access code into the door again and sprinted into the lab. Steve just barely managed to catch the door before it closed and followed Tony inside. "JARVIS put the results up on-screen." The holographic screen above his desk lit up, presenting the image of a police memo.

"The Los Angeles FBI field office issued a BOLO for Vasyl Knežević," JARVIS explained as the image of an Asian man came up on screen. "Knežević is believed to have been involved in the robbery at Stark Industries the other day and may be linked to a series crimes committed in the past few days."

"Crimes like what?" Tony asked.

"The charges range from petty theft to several counts of first-degree murder." Tony's veins ran cold.

"JARVIS…"

"The Iron Man armor is ready for assembly at any time." As soon as the AI said the word, Tony headed over to the assembly platform. Catching on to what was happening, Steve followed him, coming around to stand in front of the platform as Tony stepped into the footholds and the machines inside the platform came to life and started to assemble the armor around him.

"You're not still thinking of going after this guy, are you?" Steve asked.

"Of course, I am," Tony said. "Like I said, I can't just take this lying down. That guy is out there **killing** **people right now**!"

"So, what are you going to do?" Steve questioned. "Kill him?"

"No." Tony liked to think himself better than that, but he couldn't help but wince at the thought of all the blood that was already on his hands just in his first year of being Iron Man alone, never mind the countless deaths he was responsible for during his time as a weapons manufacturer. "Well, not unless I have to," he corrected. Stane's death flashed through his mind at that moment. "I'd be satisfied with kicking his ass so hard it's sore for the rest of his life sentence." At this point, the suit had almost fully assembled around him and Natasha came sprinting from whatever dark corner of the lab she had wandered into.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Tony's trying to go after the guy that robbed him," Steve explained. Natasha didn't show any hint of surprise as she stepped in front of the platform.

"Stark," she said. "I'm ordering you to stand down."

"Sorry, Agent Romanoff," Tony said. "But neither you nor S.H.I.E.L.D. has the authority to order me to do anything."

"Yes, we do," Natasha said. "and I'm ordering you to stand down." Her voice was authoritative, and her eyes were hard.

"Yeah, no," Tony said. "But think of it this way, now you can add 'refuses to listen to authority' to the list of reasons why I'm not recommended for the Avengers Initiative…" Tony had to pause for a second as the faceplate went over his face and the suit's systems came online. "Along with 'compulsive behavior' and 'textbook narcissism.'" He finished once the suit's speaker system was activated. "Now, if you wouldn't mind stepping out of the way…"

Natasha didn't give any intention of moving out of the way. However, that didn't stop Steve from grabbing her by the arm and pulling her out of the way. With the path clear, Tony flew out through the entrance ramp to the garage and into the early evening sky.

* * *

 **This isn't a note about the chapter, this is just something I want people to be aware of. We've had a rough few days here on the East Coast, first with Hurricane Florence slamming North and South Carolina and the horrific Merrimack Valley Explosions in Northern Massachusetts. All I ask is to keep the people affected by these tragedies in your thoughts and donate to the American Red Cross if you can. Thank you.**

 **Remember kids, just get some proper sleep. It really does wonders.**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 9/15/18.**


	21. Mind Over Matter

**Cat: *taps my shoulder***

 **Me: No, I can't scratch you. I'm in the middle of doing something.**

 **Cat: *meows sadly***

 **Me: *sigh* You're lucky you're cute. *scratches cat***

* * *

 **Thursday, August 12th, 2010**

Natasha pivoted on her left foot and brought her right around to strike the inside of Steve's knee. If it wasn't for the sheer surprise that she could kick that hard, Steve probably wouldn't have fallen forward and let go of her arm. Not that he wanted to keep holding her back anyway. Tony was already gone, and it was just the sheer shock of what had just happened that kept him rooted to the spot and his hand tight around the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent's arm.

Now it wasn't the fact that Tony left that came as a huge shock to him, Steve knew that he had been probably planning that from the start. What came as such a shock was that he had stopped Natasha from stopping Tony. He didn't know what had come over him. Natasha hadn't been in a position where she could get hurt – after all, the lab had a lot of open space, especially towards the garage area where the platform was located. Tony could have easily gone around her – so the only reason he could logically come up with was that he **wanted** to get her out of Tony's way.

It didn't make sense, seeing as he **agreed** with her. Tony needed to go back to the hospital, ASAP. He did seem a little better after spending some time resting, but the fact that he was struggling to even walk on his own told Steve that he was in no shape to go running into a fight. In the end, it didn't really matter. He made an impulsive decision and now Tony was going to get hurt or worse. Even if he wasn't wrongly attracted to him, Steve would still feel horribly guilty for that. He could have stopped Tony from doing something stupid, but instead, he let him get what he wanted. He looked up at Natasha, who had a fire in her green eyes.

"What the hell was that?" she asked.

"I don't know," Steve said honestly.

"What do you mean you 'don't know?'" Natasha asked. "You just let Stark fly off to who-knows-where to do God-knows-what. Did he even say where he was going?"

"As I said, he's going after the guy who robbed him. He didn't say exactly where that was." Natasha shook her head in exasperation. "I did get a name, though," Steve offered, causing the agent's eyes to perk up. "Vasyl Can-nez-a-vick? I might not be saying that right."

"Vasyl Knežević," Natasha said flawlessly. "Eastern European."

"Right," Steve said. "Is it enough for you to figure out where he's going?"

"It's enough for me to give S.H.I.E.L.D. so they can go find him," Natasha said. "We need to get back to New York. We wasted enough time already." Steve took a step back from the redheaded agent, narrowing his eyes.

"No." Natasha tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. Steve stood his ground. "Tony's going to get himself hurt or killed if he tries to fight anyone in his condition."

"Then why did you let him go?"

"I don't know," was the only thing he was willing to offer the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Mostly because he was still so confused by what Tony had said. Honestly, the man seemed genuinely surprised when Steve suggested that they could get arrested for being gay. Tony had said people didn't "think like that now." He shook his head. There was no way this was thought of as "normal." It was an unfixable disease. People who were unfixable either went to jail or the asylum. That's just how it was. He wasn't going to tell this woman that he was attracted to Tony, especially when it seemed she already had it out for the guy, given the incredibly inconsistent misleading character assessment she wrote of him.

Despite this, Steve could feel most of the anxiety that had been ravaging him all day slowly sliding away, being replaced with a sense of self-confidence that he hadn't felt since he crashed the plane into the Arctic. He had to stand up for Tony here. The man clearly wasn't running at one-hundred percent and he was going to get himself hurt. Steve looked Natasha clearly in the eyes and stood tall.

"Listen," he said. "I know I probably could have done more to stop him, but I don't think it would have mattered anyway. Tony had his mind set on going after this guy and nothing was going to stop him. Just like how I have my mind set on helping Tony and nothing is going to stop me."

"I can't let you do that, Captain Rogers," she said. "I'm under strict orders to extract you and return to New York immediately. You've already been out here too long."

"Too long?" Steve said. "I've been out too long? What, does S.H.I.E.L.D. think I'm it's property now?"

"No," Natasha said. "Director Fury is worried about overwhelming you with too much of the world at once. Things have changed a lot for both the better and worse and given the fact that you only woke up four days ago… You haven't had time to process this; this world, what happened, all of it. It's a lot to take in at once and it's confusing…"

"How would you know?" Steve asked. "You haven't been through this. Nobody's been through this and instead of helping me out or trying to make me feel welcome or anything, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been keeping me locked up in an apartment with no one to talk to and nothing to do but read a few outdated, half-redacted files. Tony's the only one who's tried to help me so far despite being so sick and I'm grateful for that. Now, I'm not just going to let him go jump into a dangerous situation and hope for the best. I'm going to find him, and I'm going to help him. You can try to stop me, Agent Romanoff, but no matter what I'm not going to stop until that I know that Tony's safe and getting the care he needs."

He stepped away from the redheaded agent, not bothering to try and read the expression on her face. Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, Steve got a rough idea of what he needed to do in no order. One, find out where Tony was going. Two, figure out a way to get to Tony. Three, figure out how to protect Tony. Those three things were simple, but the resolutions were hard to come by.

One, Los Angeles was huge and trying to find one single person would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Two, as far as he could tell Tony only owned cars and while he had driven a few times, he was nowhere near confident enough to try driving in a high-density area and having not had time to become familiar with the modern controls. Three, S.H.I.E.L.D. had his shield and while he had the physical prowess and improvisation skills to make due without it, he had a feeling that it would be safer to have an actual barrier to put in-between Tony and this psychopath. Maybe he had just grown overly reliant on the shield.

Almost immediately after the thought occurred to him, a shiny glint of red caught his eye. Walking over to a series of tubes, wires, and metal parts that Tony had stacked up in one corner, Steve could see a familiar(ish) shape amidst whatever disassembled mess this was. Reaching in and freeing the piece of metal from the pile, Steve could see that it was his shield. Well, at least a replica of it. It's heavier weight and the layers of ripped-apart metal made it clear that it wasn't made of vibranium. Inspecting it carefully, Steve realized that it probably wouldn't work in the flying discus way he usually threw it, but it would still at the very least hold up if somebody tried to get between him and Tony.

With one task struck down, Steve turned back to see Natasha standing just a few feet behind him. He jumped a bit in shock and realized that even with his enhanced hearing, he hadn't been able to hear her coming up behind him. She was good, he'd give her that at least.

"Alright," Natasha said. "I'll help you find Stark, but only because part of our deal was to get him back to the hospital, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said.

"Natasha," she corrected. "So, do you seriously not know where he's going."

"No clue at all," he admitted.

"Alright," she said. "Don't worry, I know how to find him." That didn't make Steve feel reassured at all, but he accepted it as he and Natasha began to make their way out of the lab and back upstairs. "So, did I miss something or was Stark just trying to get to me back there?"

"What do you mean?" Steve narrowed his eyes at the sudden, unspurred question.

"That stuff he said about 'compulsive tendencies' and 'textbook narcissism.' Did I miss something there because I don't know what he was talking about?" Steve stopped in his tracks and did the best "are you kidding me" look he could give in the situation.

* * *

Pepper slid the elastic band back into place as she got off the elevator. She had just spent the past few hours arguing with various board members and negotiating between the hospital and police to devise a plan to keep the media away from the area. The last thing Tony needed right now was cameras in his face while he was trying to recover. It was a long and grueling process, but eventually, they worked out a plan. That at the very least was good.

Currently, she was heading back up to Tony's room to let him know that she had gotten off the phone with Col. Rhodes, who was being held up in Kuwait now but was going to visit him as soon as he was back on U.S. soil. She felt bad for the guy, but at least his visit would cheer Tony up. That's what she told herself as she tried to suppress a yawn. She also needed to be heading out. It was a long day and tomorrow was promising to be even longer. She wished she could stay a bit longer, but her eyes were growing heavier with each passing second. Pepper knew if she didn't get on the road now, she'd be liable to pass out behind the wheel and start a forty-two-car pile-up.

 _At least he won't be alone,_ she thought. _That Steve there sure seems to be determined to stick by him no matter what._ Although she had been suspicious and wary of Steve at first, his concern for Tony seemed to be nonetheless genuine. She didn't get entirely what was going on there, but if Tony was happy and wasn't in any immediate danger, then she supposed she had no right to complain. Tony was moving on and believe it or not that took a huge weight off Pepper's shoulders. She knew they wouldn't work as a couple, but she still wanted to be Tony's friend and it lessened the strain not to have the "break up" (if you could even call it that) hanging over their heads. She honestly wished them both the best of luck. Tony deserved to be able to smile like that at least after all the stuff he's been through today alone, never mind the rest of his life.

The first thing Pepper had noticed was off was that she could hear the TV on in Tony's room and the volume on it was blasting. Tony was supposed to be resting and he never turned the sound up that loud. The second thing she noticed that was off was that someone was speaking French in the room. Tony knew French, but Pepper knew his voice wasn't that feminine. Pushing the door open, Pepper saw Lara sitting on the edge of the bed, talking on her cell phone while inspecting her nails. The sensor on her right index finger made it clear what she was doing.

"Oui, Angelina Jolie essaie de tuer Brad Pitt maintenant," Lara rattled off to the phone. "Pourquoi? Je ne sais pas! Je pense qu'ils doivent s'entretuer maintenant qu'ils savent qu'ils sont des espions ou quoi que ce soit. Si vous cessez de poser des questions, je pourrais mieux vous expliquer le film." Lara looked up to see what was going on on-screen when she finally took notice of Pepper standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Lara's face blanched. "Hey, J.P., I'm going to have to call you back. Oui. Je t'aime aussi, mon frère. Au revoir." Lara hung up the phone and turned back to Pepper. "In my defense, Tony was the one who asked me to do this and he said to be completely honest with you when I tell you that he's doing an Iron Man thing and he's going to come right back once it's taken care of."

Pepper huffed in aggravation, turned and left the room. She couldn't believe this and honestly had to wonder whether Tony had an actual death wish. As she walked down the hall, looking for a nurse she could notify of Tony's sudden disappearance, she heard Lara call out "I'm not fired, am I?"

* * *

Police chatter and records disclose a lot. For example, if there was a psycho going around killing people by turning them into stone, they'd take notice of it and be scrambling to try and stop it. Tony had no idea how that was even possible – in fact, he was worried that he had passed out back at the hospital and this was all some sort of crazed fever dream – but apparently, that's what was going down.

First and foremost, once he left the house, Tony asked JARVIS to find whatever he could on Vasyl Knežević. Apparently, the man had previously been arrested for possession of illegal explosive components and child endangerment (lovely) and was recently released. Now, he was suspected of murdering his children, sister-in-law, and about three dozen others. The only guess that Tony had now as to how he was able to pull all this off was that he had somehow enhanced himself using the chemicals he had stolen from Stark Industries. He could figure out the exact specifics later once the guy was locked away for good and Tony could once again think at a speed faster than four words-per-second. (Yeah, leaving the hospital wasn't the best idea, especially since JARVIS was giving him warnings that his temperature was rising back up into the danger zone.)

The BOLO stated that Knežević had been last seen wearing "only a soiled pair of underwear" and as having the ability to "turn anything he touched to stone." So, when reports of several 911 calls complaining about an intoxicated Asian man clad in only his underwear throwing rocks at people and screaming at them to get off the beach started to come in from the Vista Del Mar area, it was pretty much an obvious give-away as to where the wanted man was located.

By the time Tony got there, police cars had already shown up, however, it didn't seem like the cops had managed to connect the dots as he did. Only two patrol cars had shown up at this point and it looked like they were more concerned with interviewing the aggravated beachgoers than doing anything to contain the suspect. JARVIS's facial recognition systems quickly identified Knežević. He was sitting by himself on the edge of a stone jetty. He seemed to be perfectly content even though waves were flying up and drenching him about every ten seconds. That did make Tony nervous, though. He had to remind himself that he was in the suit – which was waterproof – and had no immediate way of drowning. (If the suit's emergency air supply failed and he was at the bottom of the ocean, he'd be screwed, but he tried not to think about that.)

He landed in a somewhat even spot on the rocks just a few feet from Knežević. The criminal didn't even look behind him as he took a swig from the crystalline bottle he was holding.

"You know, Oswin tried to warn me about this," Knežević said. "She said by robbing you we'd essentially be asking for you to show up in your Iron Man armor and kick out asses. I'm just surprised it took you this long."

In all honesty, it surprised Tony that it took him this long, too. He wished he could use this sudden onset of a medical condition as an excuse, but, he knew he had to admit that he got a little distracted by Steve. After all, why waste time tracking down a nameless, faceless criminal when you can spend it with a good-looking super soldier that you might have conflicting feelings about? Tony wanted to beam himself off the head for that. He supposed that's why karma had kicked in and he was now getting pelted by the spray of the waves every thirty seconds; death by dramatic irony.

"Listen, I don't want to do anything to hurt you," he lied. "Just go to the police over there and turn yourself in. End this all right now before more people get hurt." Knežević laughed in response.

"Do you really think I'm going to do that?" he said. "Hell no. I spent the last decade in jail and I swore to myself I wouldn't die there. I swore that I'd make it back to Audrey and Stephanie…" He tried to take another swig from the bottle but found that it was empty. He threw it out into the ocean in anger and it sank rather than float back up to the surface. "Nah, man. I'm not going back to jail, and you can't make me."

Tony rolled his eyes. He offered Knežević the path of least resistance and if the man was fool enough not to take it, that wasn't his problem. Tony grabbed Knežević by the upper arm and hoisted him upwards. He was about to make some snarky, sarcastic remark when Knežević turned and twisted in his grip, placing the other hand on Tony's armor covered forearm.

What happened next astounded Tony. He watched as the red-shaded gold-titanium alloy changed to clear, see-through stone. Although some pieces of wiring and a few inner components were now visible, the inner layers of armor and everything else he could see appeared to be unharmed. Knežević smirked.

"Guess you weren't counting on me to have a special party trick, were you?" Tony had to admit, he was hoping for those claims of "turning people to stone" was just a mass delusion created by terrified witnesses to a brutal murder.

"JARVIS," Tony said.

"The left-side gauntlet remains fully functional," the AI responded. "But I would not suggest allowing Mr. Knežević to touch you again. Continual conversion of the entirety of the external plating would render the armor completely useless."

"Yeah," Tony said. "That's what I thought." Tony jerked his arm back to get Knežević to let go. Knežević fell to his knees but sprung up quickly, scrambling past Tony and back towards the beach. Tony flew over to where the jetty met the shore, intending to block his path of escape. "So, what are my options here?"

"Very limited, Sir," JARVIS responded. "Direct contact with the repulsors will render them non-functional, contact with the armor's joints will cause it to become stuck, and contact with the housing for the Arc Reactor will cause the armor to power down."

"Right," Tony said. "Avoid direct contact with his hands. The only problem with that is if I want to fight him, I'm going to have to do it hand-to-hand."

"I can lower the repulsor blasts to five-percent their normal strength." Tony wasn't entirely sure that was a good idea. Even at only five-percent those repulsor blasts were pretty strong, especially when you consider the fact that this guy wasn't wearing any clothes other than his underwear and had no protective gear to speak of. Best case scenario, the guy ended up badly bruised with a few second-degree burns. However, Tony didn't have much of a choice given that Knežević was going to be upon him in less than mere seconds.

"Do it." Tony raised his left arm and fired a repulsor blast at Knežević just as the man was going to lunge for him again. Knežević was knocked back, hit his head on one of the rocks, and fell into the water. Tony legitimately thought for a second that he killed the guy, but he was quickly proven wrong. Knežević's head bobbed up out of the water and he appeared to be doggy-paddling back to shore. Tony began running across the shoreline after him.

When Knežević finally emerged from the water, he was only a few feet ahead of Tony. Tony once again fired a low-powered repulsor blast at him. Knežević landed face-first in the sand with a loud, wet **_smack!_** Tony restrained his arms before he even had a chance to think about getting up.

"Why don't you just give up already?" Tony asked. "You have to know that you're significantly outmatched here."

"True," Knežević said. "But it's pretty hard to give up when you've got nothing else to lose." Tony rolled his eyes and hoisted the man to his feet. He was careful to keep his grip firm around Knežević's wrists and avoid touching his palms.

"Well," Tony said. "If you really have nothing to lose, then you wouldn't mind a short stay at San Quentin. How does twenty-five to life sound? Fair, or should we take away the possibility of parole?" Tony turned his attention to the cops that had gathered in the beach's parking lot. Quite a few more had shown up – probably spurred on by Iron Man's arrival at the scene – but no one had approached to help him with Knežević yet. "Hey, wouldn't mind a little help here! It's not like I can handcuff him or read him his rights!"

Tony probably should have seen it coming. How he missed it, he wasn't sure. As he moved Knežević in the direction of the parking lot, the man twisted his wrists and pulled his hands up so his palms came into contact with Tony's.

"Shit!" Tony pulled his hands away. Knežević started running back down the beach. Tony flipped his hands to look at them. Both the repulsors and the metal surrounding them started to turn to clear stone.

"Both the left and right-hand repulsors have failed," JARVIS informed.

"I can see that." Tony shook his hands as if that would do anything to get rid of the stone. Obviously, that didn't work. Realizing he had no choice but to face Knežević hand-to-hand, he muttered another curse to himself and began to chase after Knežević again. His chest hurt, he felt overly hot, and he was having trouble breathing, but he tried to ignore it as he powered through.

He had just about caught up to Knežević when the man turned his head and shot his arm out behind him. He was trying to reach for the Arc Reactor's housing, but Tony realized this and threw his arm in the way before Knežević could touch it. It worked, but unfortunately, it caused another piece of the armor's outer plating to turn to stone. Tony growled in frustration and sent a punch straight to Knežević's gut. He fell backward onto his back, clenching his stomach. After taking two repulsor blasts to the torso, Tony could imagine he was in quite a bit of pain right now.

"Just give it up already," Tony panted out. "You're not going to win here, so just give it up." He swallowed hard. His throat felt like it was on fire. Another warning came up on the display indicating that his fever had once again crossed the 105-degree threshold. Tony told JARVIS to "mute" before he could express his concern.

"Give up?" Knežević questioned. "I don't know how." He tried to sit up, but with his injuries, it proved to be difficult. Somehow, though, he managed to do it. "If I just keep at it, if I try hard enough, things will go the way I want them to. They always do."

"Yeah, well not this time." Tony turned back to the cops again, who was still in the parking lot, sitting on their hands. He let out a sigh of exasperation. "Seriously? You know I could really use some help down here!" One of the cops shouted something unintelligible. "What?" The cop shouted again, but Tony's attention was pulled away by the sound of feet kicking up sand and bare skin slamming against metal.

Turning around, Tony expected to see Knežević standing there, smirking after having had turned another piece of the armor to stone and preparing to lunge at the Arc Reactor's housing again. Instead, he saw Steve standing between him and Knežević holding up the old replica of his shield that Tony had cannibalized into other projects. (Most notably, using it as a stand for a particle accelerator.)

 _Yup,_ Tony thought. _Definitely some kind of weird fever dream._

"What the hell?" Knežević said. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Knežević growled and tried to lunge after Steve, but Steve slammed his now stone-reinforced replica shield into his side. Knežević groaned upon hitting the ground. Natasha appeared beside him and bent down to restrain his arms.

"Don't try to resist," she said. "You'll only make it harder on yourself."

"Oh… Screw off… Bitch…" He tried to reach for an exposed part of Natasha's skin but ended up touching her gloved hand instead. Natasha used this mistake to her advantage, clenching her fist before the glove completely turned to stone and once the process finished, struck Knežević nice and hard on the temple. He fell back, unconscious.

"He's out," Natasha shouted to the cops down the beach. "He's not going to get up! Cuff him but try to avoid actually touching his hands!" With that, two of the cops came running. Tony let out a sigh, glad that this was all finally over. He lifted the armor's faceplate and turned to Steve.

"Hey," he said. "Are you alright?"

"Of course, I am," Steve said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"He didn't touch you or anything, right?" Tony said. "You're fine?"

"Yeah, I am." Tony noticed that Steve's eyes were slowly tracing the armor up and down. Tony smirked, and Steve's face turned white the second he realized he'd been caught. Yeah, they needed to finish having that discussion from before. "What about you? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Tony assured. "I mean, my head hurts, and my throat hurts and the beach is tilting funny, but other than that…"

"What do you mean the beach is…" That's all Tony heard coming out of Steve's mouth before everything went dark.

* * *

 **As you can see, I'm kind of distracted right now, so I'm going to keep this short. Be sure to like, favorite, follow or whatever and don't forget to leave a comment or review!**

 **Remember kids, your cat is adorable. He deserves scratches.**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 9/24/18.**


	22. Love is Not a Choice

**I am just a villain vying for attention from a boy, a boy who can't decide and here's the reason why...**

* * *

 **Friday, August 13th, 2010**

Tony knew where he was when he woke up. He remembered passing out on the beach, so he knew that presumably Steve, Natasha, or one of the cops had called for an ambulance and brought him back to the hospital. That was fine. He probably deserved it anyway for sneaking out and all. Oh well, at least he didn't have to worry about the thieves being at-large anymore. Both had been caught and arrested by the police. That was such a relief off Tony's mind that he had time to focus on other things like why exactly couldn't he turn over?

Across his waist, Tony could feel a band digging into his skin despite the soft padding that was supposed to **keep** it from hurting, holding him down to the bed. Every time he tried to adjust his position, he found himself unable to do so, which sucked because he was cold and all he wanted to do was draw his legs and the blankets closer to him for warmth. That wasn't the only thing that was restrained. His wrists were pinned to either side of the bed and it felt like his hands had been balled up into fists and surrounded by pillows. His legs were still free, though, and he could move his head to either side. They also must have given him a sedative, because his head felt groggy and he was relatively calm about the fact that he was currently tied down to a bed. (He'd had some bad experiences with that sort of thing.)

Slowly prying his eyes open, Tony glanced around at his surroundings. He was, in fact, in a hospital room. He wasn't sure if it was the same hospital room as he was in before, if it wasn't it was practically identical. Glancing out the window, Tony could see that the sky was clad in the gray of early dawn. So, he'd been passed out for quite a while. He began to wonder if it was the next day or if he had been completely out for a few days when an extremely irritated blonde woman entered the room. Tony let out an exasperated sigh.

 _Here comes the lecture,_ he thought.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark," she said cordially despite the look in her eyes being anything but cordial. He could easily guess that she was seething behind that surgical mask. "Did you enjoy your little night on the town? I hope you did because it's the last one you're going to have for a while."

"Listen, Doc…" It was only then that Tony realized he had an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. He tried to raise his hand to lift it up but was quickly reminded that his hands were restrained. Luckily, the doctor did the kind thing by lifting his mask, so he could speak. "Listen, Doc, I know I didn't properly check out. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I did it anyway. I'm not going to apologize for it, though. I had to leave, there was no other choice." The doctor allowed the mask to snap back over his mouth and nose.

"You know what, save your excuses for someone who cares," Dr. Holcomb said. "That's not my problem. What is my problem being that when I just got done talking to you about how serious your condition is, you go gallivanting off and jeopardizing your already fragile condition by encountering who-knows how many pathogens? Were you even listening to me when I told you that aplastic anemia essentially reduces your immune system to nothing and that contact with the average cold or flu virus could cause you to become extremely ill or kill you? In fact, you're lucky you got back here in time for us to bring your fever down before any permanent or serious damage was done. A few degrees more and your brain would have been like a hard-boiled egg. Plus, you wasted the time of our staff searching for you after your girlfriend told us that you had gone missing. I hope you're happy with yourself."

Tony didn't give any response. He was, in fact, happy with himself and had no regrets. He didn't even try to argue with the points the doctor had made. He had been paying attention, at least to the part where she had told him that his immune system had been completely wrecked and it was imperative to his recovery to stay in the hospital, he just couldn't bring himself to care about his own personal safety at the time. So really, he had nothing to argue with her about. Except, maybe the fact that she assumed either Pepper or Conroy was his girlfriend. That, he kind of took issue with. However, he couldn't bring himself to argue about anything. Not now. The drugs were too strong.

He still needed to know why the doctors felt it necessary to restrain him. He tried lifting his arms up to gesture to the doctor what was wrong. She gave a little self-satisfied smirk in response.

"That is to make sure you don't try to escape again," she said. "The waist restraint makes sure you don't get up, the wrist restraints make sure you don't try to pull out your IVs, and the mittens make sure you don't try to undo the wrist restraints. They're also very effective in making sure that newborns and psychiatric patients don't try to scratch themselves." Tony tried hard to communicate two words in one glare. It seemed to work because the next thing the doctor said was "I'll tell a nurse to switch you to a nasal cannula. You'd waste a lot less energy saying the actual words than you are glaring at me like that."

Dr. Holcomb then left the room and a short while after her promise was delivered upon when an exhausted-looking nurse came to switch out the mask. He quietly thanked her when she finished, and once she was gone he was left alone with his thoughts. The biggest one after _I'm never coming to this hospital again_ was _where's Steve?_

He supposed that was a stupid question. Natasha said that she'd been sent to collect him, and Tony knew that's probably what happened after he passed out on the beach. It irked him. He hadn't had a chance to finish his conversation with Steve. It wouldn't have bothered him much, but he hadn't been able to explain why Peggy told him Steve was bi in the first place. It was only seven words! Seven words at the bare minimum were all that was necessary to communicate her reasoning and no matter what Peggy promised Steve back in the forties, he knew Steve would probably immediately understand and forgive her. Just seven words…

 _Peggy told me because I'm bi, too._

* * *

 **Friday, December 19th, 1986**

Tony shut his door and locked it behind him. He knew Howard was going to be angry with him for storming out of the party and would probably be at his door once it was over, and he just didn't want to deal with a headache that argument would bring. Sighing, he contemplated what to do next.

He could try to sneak out, but there weren't that many places he could think to go, especially the Friday night before Christmas. He could leave and walk to a hotel, but that would take hours and he'd be in even more trouble once Howard saw the charge on his credit card bill (or rather, his accountant saw it and ratted Tony out again.) He could try seeing if Meredith was home, but he hadn't talked to her since that summer, had no idea whether her parents had let her come home for the holidays, knew that if they did there was likely a party going on there as well, and that her father hated him simply for being the son of Howard Stark. (He also didn't find the idea of having to outrun her family's guard dogs again if he got caught particularly appealing.) His only friend from school was on the other side of the country… The only option he could think of as being feasible was sleeping on the beach like a homeless person. Yes, that seemed like a perfectly acceptable place to stay with the Long Island temperatures and the fact that snow was promised for the next day. Tony eventually gave up, grabbed one of the pillows off the bed, and sat down on the floor. He didn't think he was going to start crying, but he wanted to be prepared to muffle the sound just in case.

 _One joke,_ he thought to himself. _One stupid joke! You can't take one stupid joke? How old are you? Five?_ Tony buried his face in the pillow and let out one long frustrated huff of air. He hadn't even been a part of the conversation. He just happened to be walking by (sneaking past) his father and a few of his business associates to get a nice, non-alcoholic refreshment (steal some booze) when he happened to hear someone (take a guess) crack an extremely homophobic joke. Honestly Tony wouldn't have reacted that bad – he'd heard worse before – if he didn't hear his father laugh at it. That absolutely **hurt** , so much so that Tony just couldn't stand to be there any longer. He immediately turned right back around and marched upstairs, ignoring the concerned calls of his mother as he went.

Now here he was, sitting on the floor of his darkened bedroom, waiting for the party to be over so they could get the shouting match over with. He heard both his mother and Jarvis knock on the door, but he ignored them. He couldn't talk to them about this. He couldn't talk to anyone about this. The idea was completely and utterly mortifying.

He knew it was wrong, that he was wrong, but at the same time, it didn't feel wrong. Boys were equally attractive to him as girls and if felt completely natural, like that was the way it was supposed to be. It scared him at first, but he'd learned to live with it. If nobody ever found out; if he never acted on it, he'd be fine.

That's what he'd told himself. Now, he'd gone and screwed it all up. He couldn't admit it to anyone why he marched out of the party. He could only act like he didn't know and take the punishment. That's what it always came down to.

After a little bit, Tony heard a knock on his door. He tried to ignore it, but the person on the other side kept at it. Eventually, they gave up with just knocking and eventually said "Tony, it's Peggy. Are you still in there? Can you please open the door?"

Tony winced. He couldn't outright ignore her. Not only would he be in worse trouble than he already was for doing so, but it was also an unwinnable battle. If Peggy wanted him to open the door, he'd open the door. Even if she had to stand at that door knocking all night, he was opening the door. Sighing, Tony tossed the pillow haphazardly back onto the bed, got up, unlocked and opened the door.

"Yes," Tony said. "What do you want?"

"How rude," Peggy said as she adjusted the barely one-year-old Sharon on her hip. "An Aunt just can't come upstairs to say hello to her favorite nephew?"

"No," Tony said. "Did my mom send you up here?"

"Mr. Jarvis," she clarified. "He became concerned when you wouldn't open the door for him or your mother."

"Tell them I'm fine," he said. "I just don't want to talk to anybody right now."

"Really?" Peggy said. "Not even Miss Sharon? She hasn't gotten to see her cousin Tony all night."

"Do Harrison and Amanda know you kidnapped their daughter?" Tony asked.

"Possibly," Peggy admitted. "She's been getting passed around all night, having her cheeks pinched. Figured she deserved a little break. Besides, who doesn't open the door for a baby?" She rubbed her finger across Sharon's cheek, eliciting a laugh from the little girl.

"Innkeepers," Tony pointed out.

"Mary was still pregnant," Peggy countered.

"So, it's alright not to let a pregnant woman into your inn, but if the baby's already been born, you're a monster?" Peggy gave him a look that clearly said, "not the point."

"Come on," Peggy said. "Even if you don't want to talk about what's wrong, at least let me in to sit down. Believe it or not this baby's heavier than she looks." Tony nodded and took Sharon from her. Peggy walked in and sat down in his desk chair. Tony sat down with Sharon on his bed and said nothing, even as the baby grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt and tried to bring it to her mouth to chew on.

"So," Peggy said. "Do you feel like telling me why you ran out of the party?" Tony still said nothing. "It's fine if you don't. We can just sit here all night, saying nothing. I don't mind."

A few more moments of silence passed, only broken up by Tony finally making Sharon let go of his shirt and the baby voicing her displeasure. However, she quickly became distracted by her right hand, balling it into a fist and releasing it repeatedly. Tony watched her do this at least fifty times before Peggy spoke up again.

"You know, whatever you're upset about couldn't have been that bad," Peggy said. "Especially since no one even knows what it was. Not even your father could tell me why you were upset, and he was in the room when you stormed out."

"Of course, he wouldn't," Tony said. "He wouldn't know what he did. Even if he did, he'd probably yell at me for being overly sensitive."

"Now we're getting somewhere." Tony mentally smacked himself. Saying that was a mistake. "What was it that Howard did to upset you? I promise, no matter what it was your father's not going to yell at you. In fact, depending on what it was I might be entitled to kick his ass." Alright, that got a small smile out of Tony, but it was fleeting. He went back to giving Peggy the silent treatment. "Tony, I'm serious. I'll make sure Howard doesn't get angry with you, but you must tell me what it was he did in the first place. Please?"

"No," Tony said.

"Why?" Peggy asked. Tony bit his lip. He just couldn't say it. "Are you afraid you'll get in trouble for something?"

 _Trouble doesn't even begin to cover the half of it._

"Sort of," Tony admitted.

"Tony," Peggy said. "Depending on what it is, I can't say I won't tell your mother and father. If it's something that puts you in danger…"

"I'm not in danger," Tony assured quickly. "I don't know what I am." His chest felt like it was aching, and his shoulders felt heavy. He didn't want to do this, not now and especially not to Peggy. She had just said it herself, she couldn't say she wouldn't tell his parents. If he told her, she'd tell them, and Tony had absolutely no idea how they'd react. His mother would probably take pity on him, but Howard would probably want him out of the house for good. Tony knew from the second that his father sent him off to a boarding school that he didn't want him around. Now he'd have the perfect excuse to be rid of him once and for all. Peggy, however, had to keep prying.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked. "It's alright Tony, you can tell me." Tony really wished he could believe her on that, but he knew the truth was so terrible that once it was out, it couldn't be stopped. He dreaded the consequences, but at the same time, he was so hurt by what happened that he just wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to tell everyone the truth, just so that way he'd be able to get it the weight of his chest.

He was only finally convinced to give in when he glanced up at his honorary aunt. Her green eyes looked at him, full of concern and sincerity. She honestly wanted to know what was wrong, so she could help him. She wasn't going to get mad. Hell, maybe if he asked, she wouldn't tell his parents. There was only one problem, though, and his eyes slowly drifted over to the door. Peggy took notice and glanced over her shoulder before looking back at him.

"Do you want me to shut the door?" Tony nodded and looked back down at Sharon as Peggy went to shut the door. She was currently banging her fist against Tony's shoulder. He wouldn't admit it, but it felt like she was getting stronger with each small punch and it might have started to kind of hurt. She only stopped when Peggy sat down next to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Now, can you please tell me what's wrong?"

"I just…" He paused for a second to take a calming breath. "I overheard something that I didn't like. That's all, no big deal." He tried to fool himself into thinking that Peggy would leave it at that, but he knew that wasn't real.

"Overheard something?" Peggy asked. "What? Was it something your father said?"

"No," Tony said. "My dad didn't say anything. He just… Laughed at a joke I didn't find funny."

"That's all?" Tony nodded. "Well, what was the joke?" Tony shook his head.

"I'm not saying it." Peggy nodded in understanding.

"Well, can you at least tell me what it was about?" Tony shook his head again. "Why not?" Tony tried to stay silent, but the pressure he felt on his chest was overwhelming.

"Because I'll get thrown out," he admitted. "My dad will finally have an excuse to be rid of me."

 _Just like he always wanted._

Peggy appeared puzzled.

"I don't understand," she said. "Why would he throw you out over not finding a joke funny? That has to be the most illogical thing I've ever heard."

"I can't say why," Tony said. "I just can't." Slowly, the realization began to dawn on Peggy's face.

"Tony," she said in the gentlest voice she could. "You said before that you 'didn't know what you were.' What did you mean by that?" Tony looked away. Peggy started to rub her hand soothingly across his back. "I'm not going to get you into trouble, I swear on my life." After that, Tony couldn't stop it. It just came tumbling out of his mouth. The only thing he could do was squeeze his eyes shut.

"I can't decide if I'm gay or not," Tony finally said. "I mean, I **know** I'm attracted to girls but…"

"You feel attracted to both?" Tony nodded. He kept waiting for Peggy to pull her hand away, but she never did. Instead, he just heard her take a deep breath and say, "well, isn't this a sense of déjà vu." Tony slowly pried his eyes open, turned, and looked at her. Her eyes were filled with nothing but kindness and understanding. "Do you want me to take Sharon from you? She looks like she's going to be fussy there in a moment."

Tony had legitimately forgotten he'd been holding Sharon and realized he had been pressing his hands into her side very uncomfortably this entire time. He nodded and handed the baby back to her great aunt. For a few minutes, things were quiet. Tony wasn't quite sure what to make of her reaction and didn't dare speak up, so it fell onto Peggy to break the silence.

"I'm not upset with you," she said. "Do you know why?" Tony shook his head. "Because there's nothing to be upset with." Tony gave her a strange look. "I'm going to tell you something. Something about one of the greatest men I've ever known…"

"Captain America?"

"How did you know?"

"You said 'one of,'" Tony said. "Not ' **the** greatest man you've ever known.' You always refer to him like that."

"Excellent point," she said. "Yes, it's about Steve Rogers, but you can't tell anyone this ever. I was never going to tell anyone this; Steve asked me not to, but given the circumstances… Can you promise that you'll never tell anyone?"

"Yes," Tony said with a nod. "I promise."

With that, Peggy looked him directly in the eyes and said, "I understand because Steve was the exact same way." It took a moment for Tony to fully comprehend what she was saying, and once he did the shock became obvious on his face.

"What?" he said. "You're saying that Steve Rogers – **Captain America** – was gay?"

"No," Peggy said. "Like you, he still liked girls, but…"

"How do you know this?" Tony asked. "Didn't you almost date him?"

"Yes," Peggy said. "That's why I know. He told me because he felt I had a right to know before we pursued anything."

"Oh, really?" Tony's disbelief was clear on his face. "And how'd that go?"

"I'll admit," Peggy said. "My initial response probably wasn't the ideal one. Just hearing it was a huge shock to me and when you consider that telling me was probably one of the hardest things Steve had to do in his whole life… I just didn't know how to react. I told him I needed time to think and walked away." Tony's disbelieving expression had slowly softened as Peggy had continued to speak.

"And what did you think?" he asked.

"I just wasn't sure," she said. "The sentiment at the time was that homosexuality was a disease, something that could be cured or fixed. I guess I must have bought into that, too, because I was genuinely confused as to how **Steve** could have those kinds of tendencies. He was supposed to have all his diseases and conditions cured after receiving the serum, but despite that, he still felt that way. That's when I realized something."

"What?" Peggy smiled.

"There was nothing for the serum to fix because there was nothing wrong," she said. If homosexuality truly was a disease, he would have been cured of it, but there was no disease to cure. It was just the way he was, and nothing could change that. I also realized the fact that he felt safe telling me that was huge. It meant that he was serious about me; that he wanted to have a life with me, and honestly, I had wanted that too…"

"Did you tell him that?" Tony asked.

"Yes, thankfully, just before…" She trailed off and looked down for a moment. Tony didn't need to ask what she meant. After a moment she lifted her head back up and looked Tony in the eyes. "The point is, there was nothing wrong with Steve, just like there's nothing wrong with you. You're not sick, you're not a bad person, and there is certainly nothing wrong with being who you are. Never let anyone change your mind about that. Not even your father." Tony nodded.

"Is he angry with me?" he asked.

"He's a bit miffed that you left the party early," Peggy said. "But he'll calm down. I'll talk to him."

"You won't say anything to him about this, will you?" Tony's eyes were wide and pleading.

"I know how to be discreet." Tony let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. Peggy got up, careful to keep Sharon balanced on her hip. "I should get back downstairs; Sharon's parents have to be wondering where she is by now. Are you going to go back to the party?" Tony shook his head.

"No," he said. "I'm fine staying up here."

"Alright," Peggy said. "Just remember that, alright?"

"Yeah," Tony said. A few seconds of silence followed before he finally said, "thank you, Peggy." Peggy smiled warmly.

"You're welcome," she said before leaving the room. "Have a good night."

* * *

The following day, Tony didn't hear a single word from Howard about him storming out of the party, nor did he hear the man apologize for laughing at that incredibly stupid joke. For years, Tony continued to keep that secret. Peggy was the only person who knew outside of any men he had a relationship with (who were usually closeted as well, resulting in a state of mutually assured destruction.) In the end, Peggy was the only person he ever willingly came out to. The rest of the world… Well, he only had himself to blame for that.

* * *

 **And never did I think that I would be caught in the wave you got me, 'cause boys love boys and girls and love is not a choice!**

 **Yeah, couldn't help but quote Panic! again, or rather paraphrase them. Anyways, if you enjoyed this chapter be sure to leave a review! Reviewers get hugs from babies!**

 **Remember kids, love is not a choice!**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 10/1/18.**


	23. Shine a Light Into the Wreckage

**So, here we are at the final full-length chapter. I hope this was all worth the wait.**

* * *

 **Monday, August 16th, 2010**

Steve had to admit, Natasha was the last person he had been expecting to come knocking at his door first thing Monday morning. By first thing, he really meant **first thing**. It was midnight.

"Agent Romanoff," he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What are you doing here."

"I need to see the files you were given about Stark," she said. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," Steve said, making room for her to walk by. "But couldn't you have done this earlier, or at least waited until morning."

"I've been busy." That still didn't explain why she couldn't have waited until a decent hour, though. "Where are they?"

"On that desk over there." Steve pointed over to it and Natasha quickly spotted and retrieved the files. "What do you need them for?"

"I think someone tampered with the report that I made on Stark," she said. "I just need to see it for myself." She flipped open the file and began to search through the numerous forms and information sheets S.H.I.E.L.D. had on the billionaire-turned-superhero.

"So what?" Steve asked. "You're saying that you didn't recommend him and reject him at the same time?"

"No," Natasha said. She stopped on one page and her eyes started to scan it. "I did do that, but not for the reasons you two apparently think I did."

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

"In my report," she said. "I wrote that he was not recommended for the Avengers Initiative since he was showing some alarming behavioral signs. I amended that once he was given a psychological evaluation and cleared by an actual doctor, then I could see no problem with him working as a part of this team."

"That's all?" Steve asked.

"Yes," Natasha said. "And judging from the looks of this report, I can clearly tell that it's not the one I submitted to Director Fury."

"So, someone switched it," Steve said.

"Looks like it," Natasha said. She plucked the page she'd been reading from the folder. "I'm just going to photocopy this. I'll bring it right back." She started to head towards the door.

"Wait!" Natasha turned to look at Steve. "Does this mean **everything** in Tony's file is wrong?"

"Not necessarily," she said. "Why?"

"I just noticed in his personal history that there's an entire line of text that's been redacted," Steve said. "I was wondering why that was."

"What line of text?" she asked.

"This one." Steve took the file from her and flipped to the page that contained the line in brackets "redacted at the request of Mr. Stark." Looking over the paragraphs that proceeded and followed the line of text, Natasha kept an unreadable expression on her face. So, Steve was noticeably shocked when she spoke up.

"Oh, that?" she said rather nonchalantly. "That probably has to do with that gay sex tape from 1995. He doesn't like having it brought up in any way, shape or form. Probably saw that himself and asked Fury to redact it. Anyway, I'll bring this right back to you, okay?" She then left the room, leaving Steve in an almost paralyzed state of shock.

"What?!"

* * *

 **Sunday, August 15th, 2010**

"So the plane was like, sixty-five stories in the air and climbing, and everything seemed to be going good," Lara said. "Then the alarms started blaring and all the lights turned off. People were screaming, and you could just feel the plane getting pulled back down to Earth. It was terrifying just looking out the window you could see the ground rushing up fast and then **_blam!_** It hit the ground, but everyone was fine. No one was hurt, everyone made a nice, calm, orderly exit and I was like 'seriously? This can't be real.' I mean, if a plane really fell out of the sky like that, wouldn't everyone be killed or at least gravely injured upon impact? I'm not wrong here, am I?"

"I'm sorry," Rhodey said. "I'm still confused as to how anyone would approve of the idea of an **indoor airport**."

"You're stuck on that?" Tony said. "I'm more worried about 'the choir of bleached children.' What does that even mean?"

"I told you," Lara said. "They were the pre-flight entertainment. They were a group of children who looked like they were born black but had their skin bleached and forced to preform a song wishing us good tidings on our aviary voyage. You know, sort of like Michael Jackson. Wait, it's not racist that I dreamt that right?"

"No," Rhodey said. "It just means you like seeing children mutilated and forced to preform for the entertainment of others."

"Hey," Lara said. "I felt **bad** for the kids."

"Then it means it means in some strange way you feel sorry for Michael Jackson." Tony scooped up another glob of yogurt from the cup and shoved the spoon into his mouth. "No big deal."

"But I **don't** feel bad for Michael Jackson," Lara said. "For goodness' sake the guy was at the **very least** a certified creep. I mean, what kind of grown man sleeps in the same bed as a young boy that isn't his child?"

"Now, now," Tony said. "Don't speak ill of the dead."

"Whatever," Lara said. "None of that answers my initial question anyway."

"If a plane fell 650 feet to the ground in the middle of an **indoor airport** ," Rhodey said. "Yes, I would expect a lot more people to be injured, but I don't think you understand how high 650 feet is."

"I didn't say it was exactly 650 feet," Lara pointed out. "That was just a hyperbolic estimation."

"How high would you actually say it was, then?" Rhodey asked.

"I don't know…" Lara said. "Looking out the window, the we were still kind of at-level with the balconies inside the airport. I'd say about seven, eight floors up?"

"So, the plane's really falling seventy or eighty feet?" Tony asked.

"Yeah," Lara said. "I guess. Does it matter?"

"Oh yes," Tony said.

"It makes a huge deal of difference," Rhodey said. "From that height, you're falling for a shorter amount of time at a lower speed. That would make it much more likely for people to survive the crash. In fact, more than a few would probably be able to get off the plane in the calm, fashionable manner that you described."

"Still, if it's an average commercial airliner and it's not filled over capacity…" Tony's face fell the second he saw the nurse standing in the doorway. "Oh-no, not the fun police."

"Visiting hours ended four hours ago Mr. Stark," the nurse said. "I've been generous by allowing Col. Rhodes and your assistant to stay this long, but I've got to draw the line now. Lights out in twenty minutes."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony said. "I know the drill." The nurse nodded and left the room. Both Lara and Rhodey got up from their seats.

"Sorry man," Rhodey said. "But that nurse is right. It's getting pretty late and I have to be back at the base first thing in the morning."

"It's fine," Tony said as he sat up a bit more in the bed. "Thank you for coming." He wrapped his arms around his best friend, who gave him a solid pat on the back.

"It's alright," Rhodey said. "Anytime you need me, I'll be there." Tony nodded as Rhodey pulled away.

"What time do you want me to show up tomorrow?" Lara asked.

"Anytime after eight's fine," Tony said. "Take your time, you don't need to show up here at four AM like you did this morning."

"I only showed up that early because I was **so bored** sitting around at home," Lara said. "Seriously, I got a lot more entertainment sitting in the ER waiting room watching patients come and go. I even started on the first draft of a TV pilot based on what I saw down there. The working title is _L'hôpital du Sexe et Meurtre_. What do you think? A little too on the nose?"

"Probably," Tony said. "And maybe a little misleading with the murder part unless it's supposed to be a murder show?"

"It is not," Lara said. "It's mostly doctors hooking up with and **occasionally** stabbing each other."

"Yeah, drop the murder part," Tony said. "It'll be more shocking when somebody dies that way."

"Alright, _Sexual Hospital_ it is," Lara said. "Err, I'm going to have to work on that, now it sounds like a porno. Not the point though, do you need anything?"

"Nope," Tony said, popping the "p." "I have my phone, which means I have JARVIS, WI-FI, and access to my personal database. That's all I really need."

"Alright," Lara said. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then! Bye, feel better!" Lara collected her things and was out the door in mere seconds. Rhodey followed closely behind her.

"Bye, Tony," he said. "Try and get some actual rest, don't just roll onto your side and pretend like your sleeping, only to really be on your phone for hours."

"I only did that once," Tony said. "And that's only because I really couldn't sleep."

"Yeah, yeah," Rhodey said. "Keep giving the same old excuses. All that's going to happen is the night nurse will take your phone again." Tony rolled his eyes and Rhodey laughed in amusement. "See you tomorrow, man."

"See you tomorrow." After that, the door to Tony's room shut and he was left alone. Sighing, he rolled to his side and grabbed his phone off the nightstand beside him. Tapping the screen, he was inevitably disappointed. No new calls or messages. He set the phone back down on the nightstand, rolled to the opposite side of the bed, and buried his face in the pillow.

 _Of course, he wouldn't have called,_ he thought. _Even if he wasn't under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ever-watchful eye, he probably wouldn't want to talk to me. Not after that whole fiasco the other day._

Tony let out another sigh, albeit a more frustrated one. He had gotten an earful from the doctor and Pepper about taking off from the hospital like he did. It didn't bother him, he deserved it. He also deserved getting the silent treatment from Steve after he forced the man to spring him from the hospital, just so he could pummel the ass of whoever Mr. Rock-Boy was. That much was a given. However, he still had a conversation to finish with the good old Captain and it was eating at Tony every second that passed without putting that matter to bed, once and for all. That wasn't conducive to a recovery.

Speaking of recoveries, Tony wasn't surprised to hear from his doctor that a compatible donor match had been found. It was rare for a bone-marrow match to be found between two people that weren't related, and even rarer considering Tony's blood type, but somehow it had been done and Tony couldn't help but think that "somehow" went by the name of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division. Well, if S.H.I.E.L.D. could be relied upon for anything, it's that they'd save your life and then act like complete dictators about it afterwards. He'd write a strongly-worded letter to their HR department, but he highly doubted they even had one. Either way, they were just waiting for the strep infection to clear up and Tony to get his strength back before they went through with any procedures.

Tony took a deep breath in and out. There was nothing he could do to fix the situation now. What's done is done. If Steve didn't want to talk to him, it was his own fault. It's not like he had feelings for him. …Alright, he'll admit that the guy is attractive, but still didn't change the fact that…

 _What?_ Tony paused. He honestly couldn't think of anything negative to say about him. Sure, he had heard Howard talk up the guy for years and sure, as a kid Tony might have resented Steve for that, but now? After meeting him, Tony couldn't think of anything bad to say about the guy. Okay, he could think of some superficial things. Steve's teeth were a little too perfect and he didn't like kale, but things like that hardly mattered.

Tony had initially written off that "moving forward" speech back at the museum as a side effect of the delirium of being this sick, but the more he thought about it, the more he agreed with it. He did like Steve. Whether as a friend or something more had yet to be determined, but in the end he held no ill will towards the Captain. He'd probably hold a little resentment for the fact that he could never do anything to be as good as Captain America in his father's eyes, but that was a problem he had with Howard, not with Steve. He wanted to have Steve in his life. Unfortunately, S.H.I.E.L.D. might have taken that opportunity away from him before he even had a chance to make things right.

After a few minutes, "Shoot to Thrill" started to play from Tony's cell phone. He tried not to get his hopes up, but as soon as he saw the overly long unknown number pop up on his caller ID, it was hard to quash those hopes. Fortunately, they proved to pay off as he heard Steve's voice on the other end of the line. Unfortunately, he hadn't been expecting the first words out of Steve's mouth to be "you're gay?"

"What?" Tony said, his voice unsure and full of confusion. "No, not exactly… Where did you hear that? What's going on?"

"I asked Agent Romanoff about a line of redacted text in your S.H.I.E.L.D. file." Instantly, Tony knew where this was going, but he didn't stop Steve from continuing. "She said it 'probably had to do with a gay sex tape from 1995.' I have no idea what any of that means, other than your gay and S.H.I.E.L.D. knows it."

"Not just S.H.I.E.L.D.," Tony said. "Pretty much the entire Western World knows I'm bisexual, meaning I like both men and women." Steve was deathly silent, so Tony continued. "I tried telling you this a few days ago, but obviously we never got to finish that conversation, so…"

"How?"

"Excuse me?"

"How can the entire world know you have homosexual tendencies and yet you're not in jail or at least the asylum?" The worry in Steve's voice caused Tony's heart to metaphorically ache.

"Because we don't think that way anymore," Tony said. "Being gay isn't considered a disease. You can't go to jail for being gay and you certainly won't get thrown into a mental asylum for it. We don't even have mental asylums anymore. We have humane hospitals that do their best to treat people with actual mental illnesses, not lock away anyone who doesn't fit within the norms of society. In fact, being gay is slowly becoming a normal thing in society. I mean, we still have a long way and forty-five states to go but we're definitely lightyears ahead of where we were sixty-five years ago." Steve was silent again. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "I just can't believe it. All my life I heard it was a disease and now…"

"You want to know what someone told me once?" Tony asked.

"What?"

"She told me, 'there's nothing wrong with you,'" Tony said. "'You're not sick, you're not a bad person, and there's certainly nothing wrong with being who you are. Never let anyone change your mind about that.'"

"Did Peggy really say that?" For the first time since that morning, Steve was smiling. Tony could tell even over the phone.

"Yeah," Tony said. "She was the first, well, the only person I ever willingly came out as bi to. That's why she told me about you. She wanted me to know that I wasn't the only person who ever felt that way."

"Yeah," Steve said. "I get it. That sounds like something she'd do."

"You're not mad at me though, right?" Tony had to ask.

"Mad at you?" The puzzlement was clear in Steve's voice. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"For knowing something deeply personal about you without your consent or knowledge," Tony said. "I mean, if it were me, I'd be pissed off."

"It's not your fault," Steve said. "Peggy is the one who told you and considering her reasoning in the situation, I can't blame her. She did the right thing."

"That she did," Tony said. "She always did." Steve hummed in agreement and things went silent for a moment. Glancing over at the alarm clock on the bedside table, Tony could see it was 9:15. "Well, I have fifteen minutes until Nurse Buzzkill comes back to make sure I actually get some rest-"

"My goodness," Steve said. "What a monster! Someone should lock her up and throw away the key!"

"Hilarious," Tony said with an amused smirk on his face. "But seriously, I have fifteen minutes. What do you want to talk about?"

They spent the rest of their time on the phone laughing and discussing things in general. Tony wasn't sure where this was leading to – be it friendship or something more – but he did know one thing already; he was never going to regret meeting Steve Rogers, and he hoped Steve felt the same way about him.

* * *

 **Monday, August 16th, 2010**

The early dawn air was cool, but still carried the heavy, humid quality that made summer days in New York completely unbearable. Maria Hill tried to pay it little mind as she stepped off the helicopter, following closely behind Director Fury. They'd spent the past few days checking in on Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S. and were returning to business as usual.

The project was progressing nicely, though they were still months away from attempting to tap into the Tesseract's seemingly unlimited power supply. Dr. Selvig was hopeful, though, and if things kept going at this rate, they'd be moving on to Phase Two by this time next year.

Walking towards the doorway to the stairwell, the Commander was quick to notice Agent Romanoff standing in their way. This couldn't be good.

"Agent Romanoff," Director Fury greeted as they approached. "What brings you here on this fine Monday morning?"

"I wish I could say I came to give you a warm welcome back," Romanoff said. "But I'm afraid we have more urgent matters to discuss."

"How urgent?" Fury asked.

"I think there's a snake infestation in the garden." Hill covertly glanced around to see if anyone overheard that. Luckily, all the agents within her field of vision seemed to have been too busy preforming their assigned duties to take notice of their conversation.

"Are you sure?" Fury asked.

"Snake trails don't lie." Romanoff slipped a bunch of papers clipped together from the inside of her vest. She inconspicuously passed them to Fury who hid them inside of his coat.

"Follow us down a few floors then report back to your designated duty station," Fury told the agent. "Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Agent Romanoff did as she was told. She gave the Director a quick rundown of how things went retrieving Captain Rogers from Stark's custody before parting ways and going back where she belonged. From there, Hill and Fury continued to Fury's office.

As soon as the office door closed, Fury had the room locked down in secure mode. Hill watched as he pushed back a secret panel in the wall, punched a code in on a key pad, and scanned his eye. This revealed another secret panel in the wall, this one containing a safe. Fury took the papers from inside his coat and quickly scanned them over. Expressionlessly, he opened the safe, added the papers to a folder filled with dozens of others, put the folder back inside, locked up everything and set it all back to normal.

"That was Agent Romanoff's assessment of Tony Stark for the Avengers Initiative," he said. "Yet another tampered file."

"What does that mean, sir?" Hill asked.

Fury looked her directly in the eyes and said, "it means this goes far deeper than we could have ever imagined."

* * *

 **BTW, that dream Lara had is actually one I had... I wasn't sure where or how else to bring it up... Should I be concerned that I dreamed that? Like, do I need to get off Hydroxine or something? Help! O_O**

 **Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and the story as a whole. Also, I'm sorry in advance. You'll see what I mean.**

 **Remember kids, always stick around for the post-credits scenes.**

* * *

 **Originally uploaded to FFN on 10/7/18**


	24. A Taste of What You Paid For

**Part of this chapter is taken from New Avengers #14 by Brian Michael Bendis. All credit goes to him, but the person you probably want to behead for this is me. You know, seeing as I was too chicken to officially identify the character until the end.**

* * *

 **Friday, August 20th, 2010**

Oswin sat in her jail cell, playing with the mattress tag at the end of her bunk. DO NOT REMOVE THIS TAG under penalty of law. Oswin scoffed.

 _Yeah, right_. She yanked the tag off the bed and began to fold it and unfold it. It was all she really could do to entertain herself. Every book she'd found in this place so far was rather dull, and they only got TV for an hour in the rec room and the woman that controlled it didn't have very good taste. _White Trash and in Trouble? Seriously? That's the only thing you like?_ So, she was left to find other means of entertainment, causing her to resort to mattress tag origami.

It wasn't the boredom that was taking its toll on her, it was the fact that she didn't have anything to distract her from the pain. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Nina being turned to stone. The image of her girlfriend's horrified face in her last moments of life haunted her. She tried talking to the prison psychologist, but that was less than helpful. The only thing that was keeping her from attempting to escape was the fact that this prison was meant to contain people like her and much worse. Oh, so much worse.

She had never heard of the Strategic Homeland… Whatever the hell these people called themselves. It's not like she'd ever be able to remember that. She just knew they locked up people like her in this prison they called "the Fridge" and threw the key so far away, any hope she could possibly have of escaping was near impossible. It was like asking someone to run to the sun and back, it just couldn't be done. Her "powers" were suppressed by an unbreakable wristband. She couldn't escape people's notice anymore. She was stuck here.

So, she sat quietly in her cell, trying to figure out how to fold the mattress tag into a crane. Maybe if she folded a thousand of them, she'd be cured of her heartbreak. At least, she kept telling herself that. Eventually, the door to her cell opened and she was taken off-guard to see an agent standing there.

"Miss Oswald," he said. "You're being brought in for questioning."

"Why?" she questioned. "I already gave my deposition. What more do they want?"

"Just come along," the agent said. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

Biting back the urge to be defiant, Oswin exited her cell and followed the agent down a long, narrow hallway. They came to a stop at a door almost at the end, and the agent opened it for her. Stepping inside, the door shut behind her and locked. No way out from here either. Looking straight ahead, she saw a man sitting behind a solid sheet of bulletproof glass. He was an older man with greying hair clothing indicated he worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. as well. Sitting down in the chair that was set in front of the panel, Oswin picked up the phone hanging on the wall and watched as the man did the same.

"Hello?" she said.

"Hello," the man greeted pleasantly. "You're Winnifred Oswald, right?"

"I prefer Oswin," she said.

"Right," the man said. "Well, Oswin, what would you say if I told you that I was about to make you an offer you couldn't refuse?"

"I'd have to ask what that offer was." The response elicited a smile from the man, but it wasn't pleasant. In fact, she could have sworn she saw something sinister lying under the surface.

* * *

She stared straight ahead of her as doctors bustled around her. This was it. Whatever had been stopping her powers was going to be fixed, but to think of what she was sacrificing to get them back… She couldn't think of it. She just stared at the ceiling tiles and tried to ignore the fact that she was lying naked on an operating table in a room full of strange men with wires stuck to her skin and an oxygen mask over her face that made it impossible to scream.

"Jessica, can you hear me?" Her eyes went over to the doctor who asked the question. It was the only indication she could give that she was listening. His face was shadowed making his already masked face seem more ominous.

She took a deep breath of oxygen and could already feel the edge taken off her alertness. They must have turned the Anastasia on. However, she could hear what the doctor said next clearly.

"Over time," he said. "Your genetic codes, which your father altered in your youth, worked to correct themselves. Your body has been fighting to 'heal' itself back to its original state. It took a few months, but we were able to isolate and rejuvenate a sample of your genetic tissue and clone it. It'll take some time, but we're going to get you your powers back." Jessica kept her eyes directly on the doctor, even as tears began to gather. "I must tell you, Jessica… Your father was **decades** ahead of his time. You are an inspired scientific achievement. You should be oh so proud."

Everything started to blur. Jessica could feel the tears she was holding back sliding down her cheeks as her eyes slowly shut. The last thing she could clearly hear was the words "Hail Hydra."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading this story! I'm so glad for all of the support I got on this! It really means a lot and I hope to continue to have that support as I work on the sequel, _Unbroken_ , which will be coming out on 12/18/18! In the meantime, be sure to check out the YouTube and Spotify playlists for this fic! Some of the highlights include Metallica, Panic! At the Disco, twenty one pilots, Green Day, David Bowie, Radiohead, and many more. The playlist titles are the same as the name of this fic and my usernames on either site is xMewWinx96x on YouTube and Mew on Spotify. Just be aware on Spotify the fourth track "Thick as Thieves" by Dashboard Confessional, is not included as the band has not made it available for streaming (sigh). **

**Remember kids, there's no sense crying over every mistake! You just keep on trying 'till you run out of cake!**

* * *

 **SPECIAL THANKS:**

 **AO3: Aaskada, Britney, brokenEisenglas, Crystalmagic, dreyrugr, drunk_rainbow, EchoMoonstone, FanficDelivery, FanGirl18, ffreader65, FriedChickenNisha, Halogien, Hecate_Morrigan13, ironstarrs, irvnstark, Ganlee, gottamarvelfast, KiernaSerea, lauraelizabeth03, levana84, Lisadaughterofathena, LiveDragons, May89, mefistofeleswassupidk, mr6volt, Nekiare, NessaRaquel, ObsessedFangirl96, Opheliad, osbournemo07, pastaaa, PinkRabbit7789, repunzelle89, RiddleMeEvil, RoninAngel (RougeShadowAngel), Rshinystars, Sesshomaru, Sheepgod, shekelash, Squeepea, starktower, The_girl_in_a_wheelchair, TORRESDECRISTAL, twilight497501, yjoo917, Zahurrs, and the 35 anonymous guests who left kudos.**

 **FFN:** **Ae0n, Anastancia, boofrog04, DarkSkitty, Deviants19, El Espectador, evestephie, Fire's Son3, flowerspring, harrydracoluver4everstephy, jacob2119, Josnika, K's Room of Requirement, Kaida Fury, Kikimau, LiLuLo12, lljmarch, Lucky9711, MeguiP, mfaerie32, Ruth01, SaphiraLovesTolkien, sankrisid23, Shiranai Atsune, StellaTenedrisx17, Tatania5, tim04, tuffert, tvd1992, and watinggamer.**

* * *

 **PLAYLIST: (1)** **"Here Comes Revenge" by Metallica, (2) "Say Amen (Saturday Night)" by Panic! at the Disco, (3) "Suspicion" by R.E.M., (4) "Thick as Thieves" by Dashboard Confessional, (5) "Migraine" by twenty one pilots, (6) "Camisado" by Panic! at the Disco, (7) "Restless Heart Syndrome" by Green Day, (8) "(Fuck a) Silver Lining" by Panic! at the Disco, (9) "All the Madmen" by David Bowie, (10) "Angel by Your Side" by Francesca Battistelli, (11) "Give Me Novacaine" by Green Day, (12) "Go to Sleep" by Radiohead, (13) "Mystery Girl" by Alexandra Savior, (14) "Mercy" by OneRepublic, (15) "Carolyn" by Black Veil Brides, (16) "All Nightmare Long" by Metallica, (17) "Nothing's Real" by Shura, (18) "From the Inside" by Linkin Park, (19) "Pain" by Three Days Grace, (20) "Your Biggest Mistake" by Ellie Goulding, (21) "5 Minutes Alone" by Pantara, (22) "Girls/Girls/Boys" by Panic! at the Disco, (23) "Still Breathing" by Green Day, and (24) "Still Alive" by Ellen McLain.**

* * *

 **Originally posted to FFN on 10/8/18.**

* * *

 **NEXT: _Unbroken_ id: 13150718**


End file.
